Lady of Magic
by Rosabell
Summary: Fem!Merlin. After two big secrets were revealed, Arthur impulsively loses his temper, but then two tragedies strike at once, leaving Merlin a shadow of her former self. Years later, Arthur and his knights find her at a clinic, but she is greatly changed
1. Chapter One

Lady of Magic

Chapter One

"Twenty-one-year-old male Moor, presenting with high bile," Merlin recited to the magic recorder that she kept hidden so people would not be too unnerved. Patients knew she was a sorceress, but sometimes they irrationally still fear spells. She opened up the man's eyes to look at his sclera, "Fatigue, nausea, pain in the upper right quadrant of the abdomen. What color is your stool, sir?"

"Pardon?" The young man looked bewildered.

"Your excrement." When he gave her a blank look, Merlin sighed. "Is it paler than usual?"

"Uh, yes, it is."

"Likely gallstone blockage," She murmured, ignoring the man's awkward expression, "And likely in the common bile duct, judging from the icterus. Are you comfortable with magic, sir?" Merlin made a point of asking this question to every patient, but this time she was honestly hoping this man would say yes, because getting rid of gallstones and curing whatever gall bladder inflammation might have gone along with it would be much _much _faster than doing it the non-magical way.

"Uh—erm, what's the difference?"

"If I use magic you will feel a some odd shifting in your abdomen," At his blank look, she sighed. "Your belly. Here." She gestured at her herself right under the curve of her ninth and tenth ribs. "It will take only a moment. If you do not want me to use magic, it can take hours, and I have to cut you open and remove your gall bladder, during which you can die from blood loss or infection."

The patient swallowed. "Yes, I'm comfortable with magic."

"Alright. Lie back, please."

The patient lied back, and Merlin ran a diagnostic spell over his liver and gall bladder. There was some liver damage, the gall bladder was obviously inflamed, and there were gallstones lodged right around where she thought they would. She placed the two organs in a stasis before removing the gallstone, and then checked the gall bladder for any stones that might have formed.

"I suggest laying off fatty foods and hard drinks, sir," She told the patient as she worked, "Moors don't seem to get gallstones that much, though, and you're male. I wonder if it was an infection?" She ran another diagnostic spell. "Ah. There we go." She got rid of those, before moving up the ribs to heal the liver. "Nasty business, these. All done now. How do you feel?"

The man sat up, bewildered and yet happy. "I feel much better! Thank you, Healer!"

"Good," Merlin stepped back and allowed herself to feel the exhaustion that had slowly built up during the day. "Take it easy for now, give yourself a day to rest. Some parts must be cleared but it is best done the natural way, for once." She smiled when he thanked her again profusely. They made smalltalk as he collected his things, and she tried not to breathe a sigh of relief at the knowledge that he was the last patient of the day.

She saw him to the door just as she heard the clanging of armor stumble her way.

_Oh no_, she thought. _Not knights._

"Healer!" A faintly familiar voice called out, "Healer!" He looked up as he and the other knights seemed to support an injured man between them, and Merlin's mouth ran dry as she beheld Gwaine's shocked countenance.

* * *

><p><em>When Arthur found out Merlin had magic, it was not the way she planned it. He had been face to face with a sorcerer intent on killing him, and it had been either that or reveal herself, even though it was in front of all of Camelot. The banquet had been jolly, bordering on cacophonous, when the sorcerer had stepped through the gates and held everyone in their seats with a mighty burst of magic.<em>

_Merlin had been trying to deal with him for an entire week, but she had always been one step behind. Arthur becoming King had taken a toll on her as well, and she had simply not found the time to get her act together. The final showdown had been terrifying, and she did not have as much experience fighting as this sorcerer obviously did. She was hit in the chest with a spell, one that sent her flying into the wall, and the next thing she knew, Gaius was tending to her, his face solemn even as he pushed other healers aside, and Arthur was staring wide-eyed at her bare chest._

_Two secrets out at once._

_"I didn't want to get attacked while traveling to Camelot," She tried to explain later, and she was not even sure if he was angrier about the fact that she made him believe she was a man or that she practiced magic. "It was just to protect myself—and then I didn't know who you were, you were bullying that poor servant. Then the _King _thought I was a man, and what could I do?"_

_"I said things in front of you I wouldn't even say in front of—in front of my _wife_!" Arthur roared, slamming the table and looking so furious that Merlin was honestly terrified for her life. "And a sorcerer too_—y_ou—get out of my sight! Get out of my sight! I don't want to ever see you again!"_

* * *

><p>"Punctured left lung, looks like it missed his heart by a hair," Merlin focused on the injuries and not the man who sustained them, "Fractured humerus." She shooed away the other knights. "Give me room!" She barked.<p>

_Temper._ It was late, and so easy to fall back to irritation than fear and hurt. Arthur looked no different than when she last left him five years ago, and obviously had about as much sense as he always did, always getting into trouble_—_

"Healer_—_"

"I said _give me room._ Get out of here," She held a hand out over his arm and healed it with magic. If the knights try to arrest her, she intended to turn them all into frogs, Gwaine included. The hemothorax was a little trickier to deal with, even with spells. "Get out of my face now or I swear I will make you regret it."

Gwaine, or Sir Gwaine, quietly ushered the other outraged knights away. Lancelot stared at her, obviously just recognizing her, but he was pushed away before he could call to her, and Merlin ran a diagnostic spell over Arthur's lung to determine where to start. _Missing his heart by a hair isn't going to be too helpful if the pressure builds up._

Her head was starting to hurt, and she used a spell to hover the patient so that she could drain the useless blood away where it would not press against any vital organs. Blood was still collecting, so she paused to locate any internal vessels that were still working against her. It took about fifteen minutes of hard concentration to stopper the bleeding, during which she had to artificially inflate his other lung so that he still had an oxygen supply.

An hour later, she stepped out, a full-blown migraine causing auras to flare around the candles. The knights stared at her wordlessly.

"The patient is stable," She said to them, "You may go in and see him, and you can take him to wherever you are staying once he wakes, though I'll have to conduct a few tests to make sure he suffered no neural damage."

Despite magic, her gloves were stained with blood, so she took them off and dumped them in the trash. Her apron was similarly stained, so she took it off and placed it in the laundry. She had a spell for washing clothes, but usually when she worked in the clinic, by the time she was finished she was so thoroughly exhausted she did not want to expend any more magic on these things, so she made a habit of hiring the girls from the town to do her laundry for her. It was a good business affair.

The third knight went in to look at his sire, but Sir Gwaine and Sir Lancelot lingered briefly. She ignored them, preparing to go home. "If you can hurry out quickly, I need to close up shop. I've stayed two hours later than I was supposed to and I have to open up again an hour after dawn, so I would appreciate if you can leave quickly."

By the time she donned her cloak, the patient was already awake, and he was walking on his own, though he was a little feeble. He stared at her in open amazement as she quickly took a candle. The faster this was done, the better.

"Sit down here," She ordered, and he sat down, dumbstruck. "Look at my nose, keep looking, don't look at the candle." She flashed it at him, studying both pupils, before setting it down. "Follow my finger," She told him, and he did not seem to understand. "Do you have trouble understanding what I'm saying?"

"Uh," He blinked, "No, I_—_"

"Follow my finger please," She repeated, moving it close to his face to see if his eyes crossed properly. "Can you tell me your name?"

"...Arthur. Merlin!" He suddenly exploded, shooting to his feet before swaying dangerously.

"Did I tell you to stand up?" Merlin exclaimed in exasperation, "Well you clearly think you know what you're doing. Knights, you can take him wherever he's staying. I'm closing down the clinic."

"Merlin," He righted himself, even as the other knights came forward to help him, "What_—__no, _you don't get to do that." He reached out to grab her by the arm.

With a swell of fury, Merlin flung him off, adding a little magic just to get the point across. There were a lot of things she was willing to put up with from her patients, but being manhandled was a step too far. "Keep your hands to yourself," She said sternly, before gesturing at the door. "This isn't a bar."

* * *

><p><em>"We found her just yesterday," The old man said quietly, but each word resonated loudly in her ears. Merlin stared down at the body of her mother, wondering if she could not just have waited <em>one day _for her daughter to come back and save her with magic, because there had to be some way to save her mother with magic._

_There was no way to bring back the dead though. Not truly._

_"I'm sorry, Merlin."_

_Heart attack, Merlin knew, ischemia, leading to heart failure, and it would have been sudden, quick, certainly not long enough for a day to be enough. She was too late, as she was with most things these days. Her mother looked like she was sleeping though, even if her cheeks were colorless, and part of Merlin wanted to reach into her magic, bystanders be damned, and try to wake the woman, make her well again, because...she cannot be dead. Not when Merlin still needed her so much._

_"I'm sorry, Merlin."_

_Merlin had nothing to show from Camelot except some of Gaius's pocket change that he gave to her for the journey. The funeral was meager, and Merlin could hardly remember it all. If she had known that she was going to fail in Camelot anyway, she would have stayed in Ealdor, taken care of her mother as a proper daughter should. Now what did she have? Gaius was all the way in Camelot, and she had no one else, not in this village where she had been sent away from specifically because she had no one there except Will, Will who was no longer around to run through the woods with her or get into trouble, or to hold her when she had a close call with her magic or scold her when she was being foolish._

_And then the news came from Camelot; the court healer had suffered an apoplectic attack. Gaius was not a young man, and Merlin knew the odds were against him from the start. She heard of his death while on the road back to Camelot, pressing the spare horse so it frothed at the mouth, but for all of that it was for nothing._

_She should have called the dragon._

_She was too late._

_Something in Merlin broke, and not even Kilgarrah or the druids could convince her to collect the pieces._

* * *

><p>Sir Gwaine was outside her door the next morning when she woke after about four hours of sleep to prepare to go to the clinic. He was a little more clean-shaven than he was before he became knight, but perhaps that was expected. The smarmy, coy air about him was tempered this time though, and it was difficult to tell if that was because of his new position or because he was actually nervous about seeing her. He never did get a chance to talk to her when everything fell apart.<p>

"The King sent me," He told her, when she glared down at him.

"You can go to him then," Merlin shut the door and locked it, "And tell him that the healer sent you back."

"Merlin_—_"

"I'm not Merlin," She said flatly, "It's Healer Emrys to you."

The knight looked astonished by this, but collected himself quickly, and he followed her as she made her way down the path.

"Are you sure you should go to the clinic today?" He asked, "You didn't get much rest last night."

"No thanks to you lot," She said acerbically, "What kind of tomfoolery did you march into this time?"

He was suddenly right in front of her. "Look, I don't know what your problem is, but there's no reason for you to be like that to me. I haven't done anything to you."

She tried to move past him without answering, but he blocked her path. "Merlin, lass," He sighed.

For all her irritation, he was right, so she relented, even though she kept a tenuous hold on the anger. If she let it go completely, she might burst into tears, and she had never wept since coming home to find her mother dead.

"We tried to find you," Sir Gwaine went on, "Arthur brought us along himself to Ealdor, found out you were gone," He folded his arms, "He could be pretty impulsive back then, but he didn't actually mean for you to go away."

_"Arthur is just in shock,"_ Gaius had tried to convince her, _"Please, Merlin, don't panic like this, there's no reason to. He'll come around."_

_"I have to leave before he changes his mind and decides to burn me at the stake after all_—"__

__"He's not going to do that, Merlin! Do you honestly think_—"___

"He said it kind of clearly," Merlin replied, "And frankly, I don't really care about that. I'm better off here anyway," She gestured around her, "I'm Healer Emrys. All of Albion come here to be treated. I actually get appreciated for what I do, instead of constantly hovering in Arthur's shadow and watching him take credit for anything I do. I can do magic without being worried about getting executed. It turned out to be the best for me."

She moved to the side, and Sir Gwaine allowed her, but he followed her again after a moment.

"You didn't use to care about this. It's not like you, Merlin. You didn't care about fame."

Merlin drew up and indulged him with a patronizing smirk. "Sir Gwaine, you will find that I have changed enough that this is _perfectly _like me. I'm sure you and the King have better things to do than harass a local healer."

"King Arthur undid Uther's ban on magic. Didn't you hear about this?"

Merlin started walking again. "What's it to me?"

"You could come back to Camelot. You can."

"Why should I go back? There's nothing there for me. You all seem to be doing fine without me."

"Merlin, we're doing _fine_, but that has nothing to do with whether you can come back or not. You have friends there! People would be ecstatic to have you back_—_"

"As Arthur's manservant?" She snapped, "So I can go back to washing his linens and polishing his armor?"

"No! As his court magician!" Sir Gwaine grabbed her shoulder, "What happened to you?"

The question managed to do what everything in the past few years failed. Tears welled out, terrifyingly fast, and Merlin turned away even though she knew the knight saw.

"Gaius is gone, Arthur is married to Gwen, you and Lancelot are both knights, have someone else help Camelot unite all of Albion. Why should I serve any king? Why are kings somehow more important than normal people? I run a clinic and I save hundreds of lives every year. I make a difference, I improve the lives of anyone who happen to come here, old or young, man or woman, Moors, druids, wealthy, poor. This is the life _I chose_. Are you questioning my judgment?"

"Arthur's not married to Gwen," Sir Gwaine said softly, "Where did you get that idea?"

_He's not?_ That was a surprise. At this point, Merlin was certain Arthur would have. "What happened?" She asked, growing truly concerned and not even caring if the knight saw the remnants of tears still on her face, "Is Gwen alright?"

"She's..." Sir Gwaine blinked, "Why don't you come back to Camelot and see for yourself?"

"She's fine," Merlin concluded flatly. "That trick is not going to work. You're not going to lure me back to Camelot like that. If something happened to her, you would have said so."

"You can afford to leave your clinic for a week," He ignored her to state, "Just because the King said something he didn't mean to doesn't mean you should hold it out against the rest of us. We were all worried about you. We deserve to know how you are doing."

"Well, you can tell them I am fine."

"You're obviously not." Sir Gwaine moved to block her way again. "Is this what you usually do? Work till the odd hours of the night, stagger home and sleep a wink before working a full day again?"

"No, this only happens with idiot knights come knocking at my clinic at an odd hour of the night after doing something stupid. What mess did you get into this time?"

"We were betrayed," Sir Gwaine scowled, looking truly angry now, "King Arthur went to settle a treaty, but their court magician_—your _court magician, as it turns out, decided it would be a good idea to try and kill us so that the harlot Morgana can take over Camelot again. We barely escaped, but considering what happened, it's probably not a huge stretch to guess that the witch might be sitting on the throne once we get back."

"You want me to fight her for you?" Merlin stepped back.

"You really intend to just abandon us?"

* * *

><p><em>"Healer, please, help her," The man begged, clutching Morgana tightly in his arms as rain poured outside. A puddle formed rapidly at their feet, streaming from their drenched clothes and the whipping water outside.<em>

_"Get in here," Merlin ordered, and it was easier than she expected to lay the pale sickly woman on the bed, drying her clothes with a quick spell and running diagnostics._

_"Recorder, on," She commanded, "Twenty-four-year-old female, presenting with high fever, rapid pulse of about ninety per minute, not conscious, signs of pneumonia..."_

_It was also strangely satisfying to see Morgana bemused and wary when Merlin directed her to the door a day later after pocketing her earnings for the treatment._

_"Quit running around in the rain," Merlin told her, "I never want to see you back here again."_

_"I heard what happened," Morgana said slowly, her eyes searching Merlin's even though the healer was getting ready to see the next patient, "Come with me. It isn't fair, what he did to us. You and I can make it right. Together, we can be a great team."_

_The day Merlin falls for that was the day she drinks one of those potions for split-mind syndrome to ruin her entire brain. She turned her back on Morgana to address a young woman with a two-week-old child. "Come inside," She told her, instantly switching to her gentle healer-voice, "How is the little one doing?"_

_"I'm very worried...he's had a high fever for days, I don't know what's wrong and I'm really scared that it's something serious..."_

_"I'm sure, we'll take a look at him now..."_

_She left Morgana standing in the waiting room. When she finished treating the child for neonatal sepsis, the woman and her lackey had left. Merlin never saw either of them again._

* * *

><p>"Just when I thought I was rid of her," Merlin murmured, before realizing that just because Sir Gwaine asked her to get involved did not mean she had to. "Why do you need <em>me?<em> Go find some other sorcerer."

"Do you not care?" The knight suddenly exploded, "Do you not care about any of us? Do you have any idea what that crazy witch might do? To Gwen? To Camelot's citizens?"

She twitched at this. There _were _people in Camelot, people she was not precisely close to, necessarily, but who she did care about. The cook in the kitchens who was always trying to stuff her with food because she was 'too thin'. The guards outside her door who made sure that she was properly warm and diverted whenever she was thrown in there for something everyone knew had been stupid. Even at the stocks, there were people there to make sure she was not abused too much, because it was so easy for those in stocks to be helpless, at the mercy of cruel perverts that even a city like Camelot was not free of, and it did not matter if she were female or male. The librarian who occasionally gave Merlin a book that no one else wanted because he knew how much Merlin liked to read.

All of them would be at the mercy of Morgana.

"We need you," Gwaine knelt in front of her and took her hands in his leather-clad ones, "We need you. You don't even have to stay. You can bring your clinic to Camelot, or you can just come back if you hate Camelot so much," His eyes were wide and beseeching, "But we need you. Arthur needs you."

She wavered, thinking about all the patients that might show up today and be disappointed if she had left, the lives that might be lost if she had not been around to treat them immediately, but at the same time...

She was tired. The issue with Camelot, her issues with Camelot, she had responded to by running away, but after five years she really needed to stop. She needed to resolve everything, at least, and not leave everything hanging. It was not good for her or Arthur.

And it would be nice to see Gwen again.

"He better behave himself," She muttered, and wondered why more tears were welling out. "If he steps out of line even _once_,"

"I know." Gwaine rose and brushed the tears away gently. "He knows, too. Come on, let's go. Arthur has missed you terribly."

"Right," Merlin said doubtfully. "He only kept saying that I'm the worst manservant he's ever had."

"You never use to take these things to heart," Gwaine said cautiously.

"Of course not. I still don't. Why should I? I'm not a man."

"Ha," Gwaine laughed strangely, "I guess you are still Merlin after all. Even if you've become..." He shook his head and did not articulate the rest of that sentence.


	2. Chapter Two

Lady of Magic

Chapter Two

She looked small.

Merlin had never really lacked for height. As a manservant, Arthur always teased about muscles, bulk, strength, and generally being a girl, but Merlin had always been tall and height could make up for a lot of things.

Arthur had actually grown a little bit himself, but not sufficiently to justify why she seemed so small and fragile, standing next to Gwaine and looking around with a tired defiance, her eyes bright and angry and yet tearful at the same time. With long hair, she did make for an exotic creature, even if she was not quite like Morgana. She was dressed in a plain dress with a clean apron and a head scarf, but there was something deer-like about her, with her large eyes and long limbs. There was no doubt that Merlin was a sorceress and not a mere damsel, but she did have a frailty about her, like her body was more delicate than the raging, weeping spirit residing in it.

She was breathtaking. Heartbreakingly so.

"We better make this quick," She said flatly, in a voice that Arthur could not recognize at all; his manservant never spoke like that. Merlin had always been sweet, just...sweet. This woman was sharp and biting, as hard as a shrew. Odd that she looked so vulnerable at the same time. "I have patients who are scheduled back for checkups and I don't want to keep them waiting. What's that?" She suddenly asked Roskin, "Open your eyes for me again?"

"Uh..."

It irked Arthur, to realize she was not even going to acknowledge him, but at the same time he noticed how she grazed her lip with her teeth, how she wrung her hands slightly and seemed to avoid looking at him. She was aware of him, and scared. This was how Merlin always behaved when nervous and scared and trying to hide it. At least he knew that much about his manservant.

He was just not use to how acidic she had become.

"They were always this big," Said Roskin with a dismayed expression, "I never paid it any mind."

"Well, you don't have other symptoms," Merlin turned away. "When do we leave?"

"Now," Arthur replied, wanting her to slow down. "We have a long journey ahead. The horses are waiting outside."

"Good," Merlin lifted her bag, but Gwaine took it from her. "Watch the flasks," She snapped at him.

"I won't break your precious flasks, Merlin," Gwaine sighed.

"See that you don't." She whirled around and headed out.

The other knights glanced at Arthur, who followed her slowly. He had envisioned many ways this reunion could have happened, but he always thought Merlin would be shy, perhaps nervous, yet ultimately yielding. Not this sardonic, almost bitter woman.

He had been King long enough to recognize that all of this was a front, though, because the important thing was...

She came.

He still wished she could slow down though. He wanted to talk to her, and it was impossible to talk to anyone like this.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me," Merlin whirled around to froth at him when she reached the horses, "I'm not your manservant anymore, _Arthur. _If you think I'm going to run behind you_—_" Behind her were four horses, "Then you can go face Morgana on your own_—_"

The sight of her, angry and fiery, was beautiful to behold. That did not mean Arthur's own blood could not boil. It had been years since he had to put up with such audacity.

"You're riding with me," He said sternly. "No one is making you run. Unless you prefer it."

"Oh this is preposterous," Merlin swept past him to grab at Gwaine, "I'm not doing this."

"Merlin," Gwaine moved so she could not reach for her bag, "Please, it's not like there are spare horses in this town in the middle of nowhere."

"Well I'm not riding with _him_."

"Ride with Gwaine then," Arthur said, annoyed.

"Come on, lass," Gwaine pleaded, "We're not trying to offend you, truly."

"Stop calling me that," Merlin huffed. "Which one is yours?"

She swung on by herself even when Roskin offered to help her as he would any lady. When Gwaine mounted behind her, Arthur felt a brief flash of jealousy at the sight of the two together, but Merlin looked so openly annoyed, and Gwaine was distraught, there was hardly any chemistry between them.

He swung onto his own horse and the other knights followed suit.

* * *

><p><em>"Where is she?" Arthur demanded.<em>

_"She's gone."_

_"I tried to stop her," Gaius said wearily, "But she panicked."_

_"You should have sent someone straight to me when she was packing!"_

_"She didn't pack, Arthur."_

_He slammed the wall angrily before turning to the guards. "Find her! She can't have gotten far!" He hoped that was true, because he had no idea if Merlin, with secrets out in the open, might choose to use magic to hasten the journey somehow._

_For crying out loud, that idiot_—it was just unbelievable. What was Merlin thinking?__

__"Why did she run?"__

__"She was afraid, Sire."__

__"Of what? That..." He shook his head, "I thought Merlin knew me better than that! That imbecile! And just newly recovered! When they find her I'll have her thrown to the_—" The where? The dungeons? The stocks? "They better find that idiot sorcerer_—ess, or else!"____

____They did not.____

* * *

><p>"She's...different," Gwaine said awkwardly later that night when they made camp. Arthur had offered Merlin his tent since there were only four, but Merlin proceeded to baffle all of them by turning into a...merlin, and fluttered into the treetops to roost. It made Arthur wonder how many times she had changed into the mice in his room while he was changing. He doubted she ever did such a thing, though. Merlin hardly needed to change into animals to see him shirtless, and she simply did not seem to be the kind of person to spy on other people.<p>

"I can see that," Arthur said with annoyance. "I'm not a fool."

"I did not mean that, Sire," The knight was chagrined, "I don't know. She's changed a lot. And her home...there's no one else. No husband, either."

Arthur scowled, not sure how he felt about that, precisely. On one hand, part of him felt inexplicably relieved. On the other...who would not want Merlin?

"I thought we were better friends than that," He said numbly, "I've lost my temper around her before. She always took it in a stride. I don't know what made that time so different that she felt like she had to run away. I guess...she never really saw me as a friend after all."

"It's not prudent for servants to be too comfortable around their masters, Sire," Gwaine reminded him, "And Merlin...those secrets were especially frightening for her. She must have been dreading your reaction for years."

Of course she had. The fool girl. How often Arthur had wished he could turn back time and do it all over again. This time he would swallow his incredulity and listen to her, instead of kicking her out so callously, when she had nearly died saving his life, no less. He still remembered her expression, the tears collecting on her long eyelashes, so strange because she sported that boyish haircut while wearing servant dress. She had been too frightened to even truly cry.

"She was never just a servant to me," He shook his head.

The fool girl and the fool King.

* * *

><p><em>"I need you to help me find her."<em>

_The druids glanced at one another. At the center was a familiar-looking boy, a teenager in the midst of a growth spurt with pale blue eyes like Merlin's and dark black hair._

_"You call her Merlin," Said the boy._

_Annoyed, Arthur gritted his teeth, "That is how she introduced herself to me. Don't tell me she lied about that too."_

_"She did not," Said the boy. "That is her name, to those who do not know her well."_

_That hurt, but Arthur ignored it. When he got that idiot back, he was going to have her answer everything, _without _the threat of whatever she thought he might do, just so they were clear. "Do you know where she is?"_

_"She is gone," Said the boy, "We cannot help you."_

_"Cannot, or will not?" Arthur narrowed his eyes, and suddenly he recalled why the boy looked so familiar. "I saved your life, once," He murmured, "At the very least you can help me find her. I don't intend to harm her. I just...wanted to talk."_

_"So you may chain her back to the destiny she had," Said the boy, "A destiny where she is willing to murder children for your sake."_

_..._What?

_"For your kingdom, for your life, she was willing to take mine," The boy walked up to him, "She was willing to take the life of my true savior, the one who always stood by me. And now, you have betrayed her, and she lets go of that destiny. Why should I help you?" He reached out with a hand, and Arthur felt something seize in his chest, "Without her here, there is no one to protect you, no one to shield you from my wrath!"_

* * *

><p>By morning, Merlin's temper seemed to have wore itself out, and she just looked really tired sitting on Gwaine's horse. There were dark circles under her eyes, indicating that she had not slept well, and she occasionally leaned against the horse or rubbed her forehead as if to massage away a headache.<p>

"You seem to have dealt with Morgana sufficiently," She muttered, "She came by my clinic about two years ago. Some fool was with her."

"You actually let her go?" Arthur exclaimed.

"Why not? I'm a healer, not an executioner," Merlin glared at him defiantly. "I don't let things like that bias me."

"I'm surprised she didn't bring your place down," Lancelot murmured.

"She wouldn't dare," Said Merlin, "She knows who's the better of us two. The name Emrys preceded me and she'd be suicidal if she tried me. She did try to recruit me to her side though."

_Emrys._ He had heard of the Healer Emrys. "You are Emrys?"

She looked at him coolly. "Yes?"

Arthur cursed mentally. She had been Emrys the whole time? "Why didn't you come back?" Gwaine tensed, and the other knights drew up a little as the atmosphere grew even more awkward.

"I made myself a new life," Merlin replied.

"No you didn't," Arthur exclaimed.

She drew the reins so the horse stopped. "What do you know about my life, Arthur?" She snarled.

He stopped too, realizing he made a mistake. "I know you are unhappy."

"Why? You think the only way I can be happy is if I were shining your boots?"

"That's not what I meant_—_"

"You're an idiot," She announced, and there was no trace of humor in her tones. "You are just so full of yourself. It's unbelievable."

"I looked for you!" Arthur exploded, and the horses nickered in alarm, "I searched for you for _years!_ I sent word out to all the lands but you never bothered listening, did you? And when Camelot was attacked_—_"

"What?"

At least she still cared, it seemed. "Camelot was attacked, multiple times. It was only under the promise that I will bring Emrys back that the druids agreed to help."

"Who attacked? Morgana?"

"And that druid boy."

"Mordred," Merlin groaned. "Maybe I'll go pay him a visit and remove his worthless behind from Albion forever. _He _won't ever forget this, ha! _I _won't! The audacity of these people_—_he can go trade stories with Nimueh about how he shouldn't have crossed me!" She seemed genuinely enraged, and it was actually frightening to see this side of her.

It was like he did not know Merlin anymore.

Had he ever?

But she was furious about how Camelot was attacked, and that was somewhat encouraging. Arthur had no idea how he would talk to her if she were truly completely apathetic.

"So what is this with the court magician here in Griton?" She then went on, still looking angry, "Phineas was always a cocksure knave. He was a simpering sycophant, kept trying to get me to marry him." The way her face twisted in disgust made Arthur feel something he could not describe. "King Berius is no better. It took _ages _for me to get them to finally leave me and my clinic alone. I can't believe you attempted to settle any treaty with the likes of _those _two. Did you really not see that one coming?"

"Politics," Arthur said quietly, wondering what Merlin had to put up with out here, all by herself. Was she ever hurt? She had some of the behavior of a wounded beast, irritated and vulnerable all at once. "Did they bother you a lot?"

"At first they did," She was still scowling at the memory, "Terrified my patients. I turned Phineas into a newt and had Berius carry him back. Berius tried to arrest me, but I did away with his knights easily. As if a bunch of sword-wielding knights could ever hope to best _me_," She glared at the horse, "But that taught them a lesson, at least, and my patients could come in peace."

It was hard to reconcile the idea that Merlin was strong in magic back when she first left Camelot and all Arthur had to go on was word-of-mouth. It seemed like everyone knew Merlin was strong in magic except Arthur; all the druids referred to her with either honest awe or reluctant reverence, but all Arthur had was memories of Merlin's lopsided, cheeky grin and awkwardness with girls, and that just seemed the opposite of what a powerful sorcerer_—_sorceress, should be.

Seeing her now made everything far more believable.

"How easy would it be for you to best Morgana?" Arthur asked. There was that part of him that wondered, despite what everyone told him, if he was dragging Merlin into a lethal situation. He was so used to protecting his manservant because Merlin had been just hopeless on the battlefield, and what if he was making a mistaking and risking her life now?

"Not _easy_," Merlin wrinkled her nose, "And Morgana's had some time to practice her magic, but I am a creature of the Old Religion and she's not," She glanced at Arthur, "Doesn't mean you shouldn't watch your back. Still, I killed Nimueh with less effort than I thought I would, and she's definitely more practiced than Morgana."

It took Arthur a moment to recover his wits. "You killed Nimueh?"

"What did you think happened to her?"

Arthur was not sure, but he did not think Merlin could..."What else did you do?" He asked as carelessly as possible.

Merlin seemed to realize he was fishing for answers though. "I cleaned your armor," She said flatly. "What does it matter?"

"It matters to me."

"Contrary to what you may think, what _you _care about actually matters little to me." She turned away from him, a clear dismissal.

Once upon a time, when Arthur had been more impulsive and reckless, he would have let that comment get to him.

"I'm sorry," He began, "About how I reacted_—_"

"I don't care," Merlin snapped, kicking her horse into a trot. Gwaine glanced back helplessly at him, and it was almost laughable how the two of them looked, a knight was being dragged around by a frail damsel.

"She cares," Lancelot said lowly as they charged ahead of the group, "She's avoiding you, Your Majesty."

"I know," Arthur said solemnly.

* * *

><p><em>"She had us all fooled, Arthur," Gwen said to him in that calm voice of hers. "She was...brilliant."<em>

_Arthur was still appalled. "There were things I did that I would only do in front of another man, good _God _Gwen,"_

_"She probably felt just as awkward."_

_"I pummeled her in practice."_

_"She knew what she was getting into."_

_"And she was just going to keep on charging into battle with me."_

_"She had magic, Arthur," Gwen reminded him gently._

_"I'll be laughingstock. We'll all be laughingstock."_

_"She's a sorceress. Sorceresses can trick people."_

_This was true, and Arthur was honestly not sure which one he found more incredulous, the fact that Merlin was a girl_—no, come to think of it, that made so much sense, given her gentleness, her perchance for flowers and pretty things and her hopeless attempts at being masculine at all_—or the fact that she was in fact a sorceress, and had thousands of opportunities to kill him, to maim him, to get back at him whenever he had mistreated her. Shine his boots, polish his armor, make his bed, good _God _the number of times Arthur had her thrown in the stocks, what if someone else had figured out she was a woman while she had been in a stocks? Yet through all of that abuse, nothing. No hint at all._

_The idiot._

_"It's possible the dragon might know," Said one of the druids. The druids had all been quiet about this, ever since they saved Arthur from Mordred's group. Some of them were looking in mirrors or otherwise minding their own business. Sorcerers, Arthur decided, were an odd lot._

_And Merlin was one of them!_

_"She's the only one who can summon him," Said another druid._

_"He may come, nonetheless. King Arthur's welfare is as much his concern as ours."_

_"He is a dragon. He cares little for the politics of Albion. So long as magic is allowed to run free, he does not care who is on the throne."_

_"Magic is not allowed to run free," Said another, "Only in Camelot. In other kingdoms, it is still repressed, and while they are repressed, so too shall the dragon's own power. We need her here, to help King Arthur unite Albion."_

_The druids were always talking about that, as if Arthur were some kind of conqueror. He was frankly getting sick of it, and wondered if this was what Merlin had to put up with all the time. There were several days when he_—when she had been unusually cranky, as if someone had told her some bit of news that had been especially unfavorable.__

__"What's in it for Merlin?" Arthur demanded, as Gwen touched his arm soothingly. "What's in it for Merlin, to help me 'unite all of Albion'?" He had a hard time believing that anyone would do such a thing for free. There had to be a catch. Maybe Merlin had been playing him all along.__

__"Nothing we can tell," Said the druids, "We merely know what will happen, not how. Not even she can fight her own destiny. She will return."__

__"_When?" Arthur was sick of all these empty reassurances too. Maybe his father banned all of magic because druids were so annoying. "That's all well and good, but I want to find her _now_."_

_"We have no power to find her if she does not want to be found," Said the druids, "Not unless destiny steps in."_

_"That idiot might break his_—her neck while out there!" Arthur paced, shrugging Gwen's hand off. A girl! All out by herself! For crying out loud, he would not have even allowed_—"She's out there by herself! And don't tell me that she's strong enough to defeat whatever is out there!" There were tons of ways Merlin could come back to him. She could come back maimed, blinded, otherwise disfigured, perhaps even just a mindless puppet that Arthur could control, and he could not stand the thought of any of that because to him Merlin was that stupid servant who never did any of the chores right and by___ God_ she was a girl, Merlin is a girl, Arthur had undressed in front of her and no wonder she kept turning away whenever he did because _Oh My God_—_

_"You know her better than any of us, Your Majesty," One of the druids pointed out, "For all our magic, we cannot defeat the powers of the heart. The one with the best chance of locating her is you."_

_And that was just ironic, because she had been the closest person to Arthur, had seen sides of him he had never let anyone else see, even Gwen, and yet with both Hunith and Gaius gone and Ealdor empty of answers, there was not a single thing he knew about Merlin, let alone where she would go if she were running away._

* * *

><p>Camelot looked different, even from the distance, and Merlin narrowed her large blue eyes to consider the layout of the fort.<p>

"You haven't been doing the maintenance as well as your father," She muttered.

"Looks like Morgana already added her vile touch to the place," Lancelot ignored her.

One of the windows flashed with magic, the colors evident even in the bright sunny day.

"Harlot," Merlin hissed, "I'll show her about using her magic like that."

She seemed ready for battle already, a tigress ready to spring. Arthur raised a hand to lay it against her arm, and she twitched like a startled deer.

"Be careful," He remarked.

"Like you care," She swung herself off the horse even though Gwaine was still on it behind her, "You brought me here, you clearly don't care what happens to me."

Arthur was getting sick of her attitude. "I don't know what's gotten into you, but I happen to have thought of you as my best friend before you decided to take my words too close to heart. It seems that between the two of us, _you're _the one who doesn't care about _me_."

"You got that right," Merlin spat back already marching forward, and Arthur raised his hand to grab at his forehead before dismounting.

"Look," He raced up to her, grabbing her by the elbow, "You don't get to go ahead and do your thing without letting me know what you're up to. What's your plan?"

"Walk right in," Merlin smiled a terrifyingly dangerous smile, "It's not like she can stop me. For all we know, she knows I'm coming. She's a seer, in case you didn't know. Seers have premonitions."

"What about you?" He tightened his hold, "Do you have premonitions?"

"Let go of me." Her eyes began glowing gold.

"You don't," Arthur concluded, "Otherwise you would have known I was coming. That I'd show up at your clinic."

"What makes you think I didn't?" At least she was not casting any spells. Yet.

"Because," Arthur paused, "You're still getting over that shock. I can tell."

She jerked from his hold, nostrils flaring. "Don't presume you know anything about me, _Arthur.__"_

"I certainly won't," He stepped back, "Since the Merlin I thought I knew would never just _run away _from a problem. The Merlin I thought I knew was brave, selfless, caring—"

"I'm not listening to this."

"You nearly killed Morgana for Camelot, you made enemies for Camelot's sake. _That's _the Merlin I know!" Arthur cried out, "That Merlin would never abandon friends and disappear without a word_—_"

"That Merlin is dead," Merlin turned away, but she did not continue storming toward the castle. Instead, she seemed to think, and to struggle again with herself.

"I don't have anything to fear from Morgana," She finally said quietly, and it was difficult to tell whether it was because she were truly that powerful or if she simply did not care about getting killed.

"You still have patients at the clinic," Arthur reminded her, just in case it was the latter.

She smiled bitterly at him, and her eyes looked so wounded that she was hardly recognizable as the Merlin who was his manservant, long hair and in a dress and face cold from loneliness.

"Let's go save Camelot," She sneered, "_Again._"

She moved away from him like a fae in the forest, so that Arthur felt like a huge elephant in his armor, clunking behind her. Since when did she become so graceful? He shook his head and swallowed thickly, regretting every insult, every harsh word he had ever uttered to her. Maybe if he had been a kinder prince, less of a prat as she had always called him, Merlin would never have...

Never have run away.

It was too late now, though, and he could only follow her numbly as she went ahead toward the gates to the city.


	3. Chapter Three

Lady of Magic

Chapter Three

Walking to Camelot felt like a dream. She was rapidly drawn back to the days when she still served Arthur. Somehow everything seemed brighter then, or perhaps she was just brighter, full of hope and youth and confidence that everything will be as it should.

When Merlin first entered Camelot, it had been a great culture shock, to realize that here was a city that had literally _everything_ and she was just a peasant girl from a peasant village with no background and no experience in the world. Camelot seemed like the most beautiful place in the world.

Now she wrinkled her nose at the place.

"I don't remember Camelot being filled with this much horse dung," She exclaimed, looking distastefully at the filth that littered the sides of the streets.

"Morgana," Sir Gwaine said simply, letting out a breath. They were on top of a wall while the guards were distracted. Merlin had noted that all of the guards were enthralled, which meant marching through would not be too favorable unless she actually wanted to kill every person in her way. It was not the guard's fault that Morgana was an evil witch, and whatever Merlin told herself, she really did not want to kill any innocents. "Looks like she's pulled the maintenance folks."

"Don't go blaming everything on her," Merlin was slightly annoyed at this, "There was always horse dung in Camelot, just not this much of it."

The King climbed over the wall. "Since when were you a climber?" He panted, shifting so that his armor did not catch on the stone.

"I grew up in Ealdor which was the middle of nowhere. Unlike rich pratty princes, we don't get to scale castle walls; we get the old-fashioned trees."

"What do we do?" Sir Lancelot cut in.

"Look there," Merlin pointed, "She's already sent men over."

Indeed, there was a whole troop of them marching in their direction. Their purpose was pretty clear.

"Morgana Morgana Morgana," Merlin tsked, "This is not the polite way to receive your guests."

"Can you stop them without hurting them?" The King asked, perhaps recognizing some of the faces under the helmets.

"Can you swing a sword?" Merlin returned, blowing out a spell. She could not exactly counter Morgana's spell without actually knowing what it was, but she could add one of her own that would make Morgana very unhappy. The guards stumbled and fell over each other in the middle of the street, alarming bystanders when they did not rise again.

"What did you do?" The King demanded.

"Strong sleep spell," Said Merlin, "Which reminds me, in case she decides to do something similar," She waved her hand around the King, and then Sir Gwaine, Lancelot, and Roskin. "That should keep her from tossing one of her own spells at you. Agh," She winced, holding her temples suddenly.

"What's wrong?"

_Ow. _Right on cue, though Merlin kind of wished the other witch would decide not to try in the first place. Morgana was not exactly weak, and she was hammering on the shields Merlin put around the King and his knights. Merlin had never experienced this before, even though now that she was feeling the headache, she remembered reading about how the caster would experience pain whenever someone tried to breach past the shields around the wards. The good news was, if the shields hold, Morgana was not likely to continue with the fruitless effort, and sure enough, the pain eventually subsided.

She opened her eyes, blinking as she realized she had closed them, and stared up at the King in bemusement. He was cradling her.

"Are you alright?"

"Ugh!" She sprang from his hold, nearly knocking her forehead into his jaw. How had she gotten _there?_

"Easy," Sir Gwaine remarked, "You just swooned, that's all."

_Swooned? Oh good grief._ Annoyed with herself, Merlin turned away to stomp in the direction of one of the towers that would lead them off the wall and down to street level.

"Are you alright?" Sir Lancelot caught up with her.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, your half sister is just a good-for-nothing shrew," Merlin cast a sleep spell on another two guards so that she could enter the tower, "Uther raises her all her life and she repays him by trying to kill him off because she doesn't know how to talk to him. If I had known this earlier," She went down the stairs and the knights followed her wordlessly, "I'd have just killed Morgause before she could do anything. In fact, I really should have just killed Morgause as soon as I knew who she was. Why did I let her leave? I should have killed Mordred too, before that little ingrate could do anything important. Stupid brat. If I ever come across them, I'll burn their faces off, see if I don't..."

She whirled around and slammed her fist into the wall, so hard she felt like she might have fractured her metacarpals. By all that was Holy, coming back here was only bringing to the forefront all the mistakes, all the things she had overlooked. If she had just been less hesitant, less _soft_, so many things could have been prevented, and she might even have come home to help her mother, or prevented Gaius from having his stroke, everything might have been so different...

"Merlin!" Arthur exclaimed, pulling her back, and with the movement came a wave of pain laced with nausea...maybe punching a stone wall was not a good idea. "You crazy woman! Can you heal yourself?"

Could she heal herself? Of course she could heal herself. It was just that part of her kind of liked the pain. It was real, it felt real, and truth be told, it had been a long time since she felt real and grounded.

Sir Gwaine cursed. "She's turning white. Lie her down."

"Merlin, can you heal yourself?"

Of course she could heal herself...it was just taking a little more effort than usual, that was all. She knew she had to, though. The pain was kind of hypnotizing, and that was not good for kicking Morgana's rear. The pain faded, but it was a while before Merlin recovered her wits.

The King knelt by her, looking worried.

_He must think I'm out of my mind._

"I'm alright now."

"Are you sure?" He asked. "You're not going to punch another wall again are you? You never were good at it."

Hysterical laughter nearly bubbled up to her lips, but she squashed it ruthlessly down. That comment was so like something Arthur would say to her long ago, but she was not his manservant, had not been for five years.

She really wanted to go home, back to the clinic, pretend none of this ever happened. _Figures you ruin my life even now, you prat,_ She thought angrily, sitting up and shoving him away from her when he tried to help her stand.

She better give Morgana that beating fast. That way she could go home. Just leave Camelot. Anywhere but Camelot.

* * *

><p><em>"After everything you have done, will you really give up on your destiny now?" The great dragon inquired, bringing his head low so that it was almost level with the ground. He had never done that before, always staring down imperiously from his tall height and forcing Merlin to crane her neck, but the beast must have sensed that she was not in the mood for such things.<em>

_"What's there for me?" Merlin pointed out. "You think Arthur would take me back?"_

_"You are Arthur are two sides of the same coin."_

_"You didn't see him," She said stiffly. "He looked at me like...like I was an abomination." He had been absolutely disgusted, as if the mere sight of her repulsed him, and so furious that Merlin had honestly feared for her life right then and there. She had never seen him so angry before, his lips were white with rage and sparks seemed to shoot out of his eyes. "I serve him for three to four years, I face dangers he couldn't even fathom, and he looked at me like I was the ugliest thing in the world. Maybe you should tell _him _that we're two sides of the same coin, but frankly, I'm sick of always giving him leeway, of tolerating his ignorance. I give my life for him, I give my heart, and he looks at me like I'm a Dorocha. No thanks, Kilgarrah. It's time I start thinking about whether the ends justify the means."_

_The dragon rumbled unhappily. "You cannot escape your destiny, Merlin. Trying to will only cause suffering."_

_"You're all always saying that," Merlin scowled, "And then you turn around and tell me that I'm the most powerful witch the world has ever seen or will ever see. Maybe I'm strong enough to reject my destiny. I'm tired. I'm all alone," She pinched the bridge of her nose, "Arthur has his knights, has Gwen, I'm just supposed to be satisfied with devoting everything to _him_? Making enemies for him? Rejecting friendships for him? Tossing away my happiness so that he can look at me like I'm the trash littering the streets? Go tell him about our destiny, but I'm sick of...of _giving_ all the time. Of having this shadow of a destiny hanging over my head, and now I think about all the things I sacrificed in order to fulfill this destiny that doesn't even guide me when I'm in a tough spot. I'm making my own destiny. Just fly me out of here, or don't. I know how to walk."_

_"He knows who you are," Said the dragon, "In time, he will learn to accept you as you are."_

_"He can learn just as well while I'm making my own future. You should be happy about this," She smiled bitterly, "If I'm not constantly saving Arthur's rear end, I don't have to keep calling you and dragging you away from whatever you're doing."_

_The dragon's tail circled around her in a wide arc._

_"Merlin," Said the dragon, "You will not find peace if you leave Camelot."_

_"I've made my decision," She said stonily. "Besides, if destiny really is so undeniable, it'll drag me back kicking and screaming, I bet. For the record, I'll miss you. I probably would have screwed up even worse without your help."_

_"Hm," Said the dragon, "I will carry you from Camelot. In your state, the roads are not safe, and given your stubbornness," he said this rather wistfully, "I may not see you for some time."_

_She reached out and he leaned forward until his great nose touched her hand._

_"Thank you," She whispered._

* * *

><p>Once they were near the castle, it was pretty much as Merlin told the King: They marched right through.<p>

While tossing some of the guards aside, of course.

The knights did some of the work, since Merlin was not going to do _everything_, after all. The King showed himself every bit the swordsman she had known him to be, and more. It was only when they encountered the druids that they started having issues.

"She must have enchanted them," The King shoved an arm in front of her, following his annoying habit of trying to protect her as if she were helpless. "How powerful is she?"

"She's not weak," Merlin replied, "I'm just stronger." She murmured a spell that covered the entire hall with ice, freezing all the druids. "Morgana!" She then yelled, "Morgana, you better come out here right now!"

Morgana did not come out, leaving Merlin to stare for a bit at the hallways that she once frequented every day. The ice started to melt, so she muttered another spell to freeze them again.

"For God's sake," She grumbled, moving forward. "Looks like she's going to make us come to her. Can I bring down the castle?"

The King stared at her. "Can you not do that?"

"Ugh," Merlin scowled, "Figures."

She had forgotten enough that she took a few wrong turns before she found the throne room, though the knights and the King had the grace not to comment about it, other than to gently direct her to the right corridor.

Morgana, as Merlin suspected, was waiting in the throne room, clad in the regal attire of a Queen, complete with Igraine's crown on her head. She was quite beautiful to behold, but her face was contorted due to her constant sneering and she did not look very attractive, for all her beauty.

"What have we here?" She murmured imperiously, staring down at Merlin with a cocked eyebrow from her seat, "The bitch comes back to lick her master's feet after all."

Merlin decided that the crown looked very unsuitable for Morgana. "Your hair is on fire," She said to her.

Morgana blinked, just as Merlin made the crown blaze, and all of the sudden the witch's hair _was _on fire. She shrieked, whirling from the throne to bat the crown off. The flames dissipated, but at least she was no longer wearing that thing.

"Let's get this over with," The healer announced, stepping forward, "I need to get back to my patients at the clinic. I canceled quite a few of my appointments because of you, you know, so I'd appreciate if we finish this quickly. By the way, Your Majesty," She turned to the King, "I'm not paying for the damages, nor do I care if you get caught in the crossfire, so watch yourself."

Then she threw a myriad of spells at Morgana before the witch could even react.

* * *

><p><em>"You can do a lot better than this, Healer Emrys," Phineas leaned over the counter as Merlin pondered over a prescription, "The King would be all too happy to have you in his services, and he pays very well, I assure you."<em>

_"I'm flattered, truly," Said Merlin, withdrawing back a little and feeling a bit uncertain because she was unuse to the attention, "But I doubt my talents can compare with yours."_

_"Nonsense," Said Phineas, "This is no competition. We all do our best and the best we do. That is all that matters. Won't you consider? It can get cold in these lands during the winter, and you'll be better off with the resources of an entire castle at your disposal. There will be others to gather herbs and what not for your potions. What do you say?"_

_"I'll give it some thought," Merlin stated, hoping he would go away and leave her alone._

_He did not._

_"It can get lonely out here," The man's posture changed, and she tensed as he circled around the counter, "The people out here are so...dull. A fine maid like you...could do a little better, can't we?"_

_He closed in on her as he spoke, and before Merlin knew it, he was pressing her back against the counter._

_"You're a shy one, aren't you?" He observed, raising his hand to stroke her cheek. Merlin was frozen in shock. She did not know what to do. Should she push him away? Should she use magic? What was this man doing? _

_"It's alright, lass. I'll take good care of you..."_

* * *

><p>The explosion shuddered through her very bones, and Merlin fell to the floor. In front, Morgana was bleeding, but still upright, eyes flashing gold as she summoned another spell. She murmured some gibberish Merlin could not make out, but from her direction came a spray of red light. She knew they hit her, but her attention was on Arthur and his foolish knights, and all she knew was that the shields around them held and the spray never touched them.<p>

Once they were alright, she turned her attention back to Morgana again, summoning the wrath of thunder and lightning into the palms of her hands. She fired them at Morgana but was blinded by her own spell. When the black spots dissipated from her vision, Morgana was gone, and Merlin was staring at a shattered window.

_Well there's no way she's surviving that fall,_ Merlin thought, _Unless she turns into something that flies._ She wondered if she would still be compelled to heal Morgana if the witch ended up being alive, still. That would be awkward on so many levels...and why was she on her knees?

"Merlin!" The King cried out, and he was suddenly in front of her. "Merlin?"

"Huh?" Merlin blinked at him, and saw his horrified gaze. He was staring at her midsection, and she looked down, already aware that it was not going to be pretty down there. It was so stupid—if she could protect the knights from the blasted red spray, she ought to have been able to protect herself, but her reflexes were not in shape considering she had been a _healer_ all this time. _Ugh._ Interesting that she still did not feel the pain though...

Oh, now she did. Now she _really _did.

"Ah," She groaned, slumping to the side as the agony drained her of all her strength. She did not even have the wits left to be upset that Arthur was cradling her again.

_I'm going to die,_ She thought, _I think I'm actually going to die. It kind of hurts more than the other times, from_ Morgana_ of all people_...

"Merlin, I swear to God if you die on me I'm going to have your head for this!" The King roared, "Stay with me! Merlin, don't you dare give up_—_"

* * *

><p><em>"What do you want?" Merlin asked flatly, grabbing a bag of herbs and sliding her mortar in front of her.<em>

_Phineas only looked awkwardly at her, looking very red._

_"Have you learned your lesson?" She asked._

_"Yes, Healer Emrys," He said meekly._

_"What is it?" She asked._

_"...No forcing women," He said in a small voice._

_"And?"_

_"Treat women with respect," He went on, "The slightest hint of no is a no."_

_"And?"_

_He looked uncomfortable. "The word 'no' is definitely a no."_

_"There we go," Merlin exclaimed, "That was easy, wasn't it? Very good." She began mashing with the pestle._

_After a moment, Phineas pleaded, "Can you make it go away now, Healer Emrys?"_

_"Make what go away?"_

_He turned even redder than he was before. "Please, it really hurts. I promise I'll be good from now on...I swear."_

_"I thought you men would like it," Merlin said coyly, "Having it for so long, wouldn't other boys be ever _so proud _of you? They'd envy you. What a man. You want me to take it away now? What kind of request is that?"_

_He fidgeted. "Please, Healer, it really hurts."_

_"Next time I won't be taking it away," She said to Phineas, "Understand?"_

_He nodded eagerly. "Yes, yes Healer, of course, I won't bother you. I promise."_

_She doubted it. This man had the look of a fool. Still, she did not really enjoy the idea of giving someone priapism, even if he deserved it. "There's a really easy method, you know," She said to him, "You can always just cut it off."_

_He somehow turned even redder, so she went on before he burst a vessel, "Alright. I'll make you a potion. It'll go away in a week."_

_"A...a week!"_

_"It's so easy to cause problems, eh?" Merlin lifted the mortar to dump its contents in a bowl, "Not so easy to solve them. Come back tomorrow morning. Your medicine will be ready then."_

_"...Can't you make it now?"_

_"And leave other patients on hold just because you're a perverted bastard?" She turned away from him. "That doesn't seem too fair to me." She left him standing at the counter as she retreated to the stock rooms to gather other roots to mix into the bowl._

* * *

><p>Merlin woke up to see Gwen, who was smoothing her hair back from her forehead. She looked just as Merlin remembered, though slightly thinner and more tired.<p>

"Hey," Said the other woman, with a watery smile.

"Hey," Merlin whispered, feeling very feeble, even though she was actually quite happy to see Gwen.

"Do you want some water?"

Merlin shut her eyes. She was so tired. "No." The pillows were very soft, and the bed was...definitely not hers. Her eyes shot open.

"Where am I?"

Gwen misunderstood. "You're in Camelot," She said in that soothing voice of hers, "Take it easy. I'll go call a healer."

She looked up and frowned. The ceiling was unfamiliar. This room was unfamiliar too. Five years was a while, and the castle had plenty of rooms she had never been in before. It must be a guest room of some sort.

It was a bit disorienting to realize that this was the first time she was treated as a guest.

_"Sire,"_ Gwen murmured outside, and the door opened to let the King in.

Merlin tried to summon her previous irritation, but all she felt was bleak exhaustion and the strange urge to cry at the sight of him, so regal and strong and...many things she could not describe. Gwen followed him in only to pull the door close once he came inside.

The King moved slowly but steadily until he was standing by her bed. There use to be a coiled energy within him, Merlin mused. Back in the day, Arthur had still been an adolescent and it showed through the youth of his posture and the light in his eyes. He had matured enough in the past five years. Amazing how much more of a man he looked now. She had never considered him to look like a boy before, but then such things were relative.

"You're an idiot," He snapped in a dry voice. "All this would never have happened if you had more _sense_ in your head, rather than just _panicking_," He suddenly sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I don't know what it is," He said in a more normal voice, "But I see you, and I revert back to being a prince again." He then looked at her with good humor. "At least now you _have _to listen to me."

Merlin sighed. Even when she had liked him, Arthur was insufferable. She had no desire to listen to whatever the King had to say.

"I was in shock," He then stated, "But I could have handled it better. I'm sorry."

_You sick, twisted, disgusting _harlot_! Do you think I'm that naïve, Merlin? Or is that really your name?_

"You were living with the knowledge for three…four years," He went on, "You had a lot of time to get use to the absurdity of the idea. I…got hammered by two things at once. I was young and impulsive. Surely you know."

Merlin turned her head away.

"But I know that you wouldn't have hidden it all so well if you hadn't been so scared of the consequences. I know I didn't do anything to dispel that."

She was weary of this. "It's in the past now." Hunith is dead, Gaius is dead, none of it matters anymore.

"I know. We can focus on the present, though. Surely you can come back?"

There was a gentle knock on the door before Merlin could answer, and the healer stepped in.

"Your Majesty," The man bowed, "I am just here to check on her."

"Go ahead," The King stepped away to give room.

Merlin glared at the healer. "How long was I unconscious, Healer?"

"For about a day."

"Good. I have appointments next week. If you can patch me up so that I can leave tomorrow at dawn, I can make at least most of them."

The healer glanced at the King, whose expression Merlin avoided.

"I make no guarantees, Healer," He said to her, "But I assure you I will do what I can to promote the fastest recovery possible."

"Your Majesty," Merlin then said, "If you can give us a moment, please?"

There was a bit of hesitation. The old Prince Arthur would have scoffed at her, but he was more mature now, and she had every right to demand this as a woman. After an awkward moment, he said something to the healer before exiting the room, closing the door softly behind him.


	4. Chapter Four

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! I'm so glad people like the story ^_^ I'm always looking forward to the review alerts in my inbox after I update, hahaha. Anyway, enough about that. On with the fic!

Lady of Magic

Chapter Four

"Well," Merlin stated when informed that Morgana's body could not be found, "I suppose I didn't go far enough. At least you dealt with the magical artifact that allowed her to terrorize everyone in the first place."

Said artifact had been cleaved in half by Lancelot, while Merlin had been unconscious. Since Morgana was not actually dead, the guards of Camelot were all still enthralled, and without Merlin's magic it had been much tougher to get past them. Arthur's knights were, however, among the best fighters, such that the guards could not ever compete against. Without Morgana, they had found the artifact eventually and restored Camelot to its previous state while Merlin was at the healer's.

She was surprisingly lenient with the druid healer when he told her she was confined to a chair. Arthur suspected that Merlin made for a much better healer than him, but she did not want to show him up. He found himself impressed with her tolerance, since he himself would have lashed out at the healer in annoyance, but Merlin simply accepted the matter with a forbidding scowl and swallowed any remarks she might have made about the matter. For some reason, she did not attempt to heal herself, nor did the healer suggest it; it must not have been a good idea.

"She'll be back, I suspect," Merlin went on, "And all the more enraged because how _dare I try to kill her—_it's all the same with these people." She took a sip of hot water and grimaced after she swallowed.

"Will you stay?" Gwen asked, sitting beside her, "In case she comes back?"

Again, whatever snarky comments Merlin might have made were absent. It seemed no one could possibly be irritated at Gwen. "How long will that take, I wonder," The sorceress grimaced again, "Though from my recollection, Morgana was never the patient sort."

"It was horrible, when she came here," Gwen looked away. She was not harmed, as far as Arthur was able to glean, but there were other wounds that do not show on the surface, and having a mad witch like Morgana in control of Camelot was enough to traumatize anyone.

"I have a clinic," Merlin told her unhappily, "I have appointments that I am going to miss already."

"Bring them here," Gwen suggested, "You can set up shop here. At least for the time being…or however long you want. Arthur would not mind."

"She's not going to attack for a while," Merlin sipped some more water. "I can go take care of my patients and come back later."

Arthur silently thanked the Heavens for Gwen, because Merlin certainly was not doing this for him. She had yet to even look at him yet.

"She was patient this time around," He said. "She had not attacked Camelot for nearly a year and a half, though this one was the closest."

"The artifact," Merlin still did not look at him, "Let me have a look."

Gwen went to retrieve it and brought it back in a satchel. Merlin took out the two pieces. They looked like two fairly unimpressive lumps of burnt wood, since as soon as Lancelot sliced through it, it had burst into flames.

"Ugh, I can't use magic," Merlin grumbled, turning the pieces this way and that. Her eyes suddenly became very sharp and intense as she focused on the wood as if it were a patient, and it was like seeing Gaius's spirit when he worked, with the same level of mental discipline and tenacity. It startled Arthur to realize that the bumbling, shy servant had been completely replaced by this confident woman who did not need any looking after whatsoever. "Wood looks like pine, smells like it," She brushed her finger along one side and sniffed at it, making a face. "Looks like this is the whole trunk. Kind of small…a root, maybe? If so this thing probably was absorbing something magical as it grew. An item that has everyone enthralled. Hm. Maybe the druids know."

Arthur was not entirely certain why this mattered, but when the druid healer returned with one of his companions, Merlin made it clear.

"Can I use this thing as medicine?" She asked him.

The druid than said something that Arthur could not comprehend at all; it was a lot of magical jargon, but Merlin nodded, looking a bit disappointed. "Well some poisons are potent medicines in the right conditions. I think I shall take it to my clinic nonetheless. I'm very tired," She then said pointedly, "I think I shall rest now. Gwen, do you mind helping me?"

Gwen hesitated. "No, of course not."

Arthur stepped away, watching Gwen help Merlin out of the chair, feeling like he had been dismissed and unable to really react to it. When the druids turned to leave, however, he managed to pull himself out of his stupor and follow them.

He really wanted the old Merlin back.

* * *

><p><em>"Morning Sire!"<em>

_"Ugh!" Arthur grumbled several oaths that would not stand in polite company, but Merlin was hardly one of those. "Must you sound so…_chipper_ at this ungodly hour? And will you_ ever_ knock?_"

_"It's morning, Sire, hardly ungodly. And how am I supposed to knock when I'm carrying this tray?"_

_Arthur sat up with a disgruntled huff._

_"Breakfast is served," Merlin gestured while setting the plates out of the tray, "Pig out."_

_"Get out of my sight, Merlin."_

_Merlin chuckled, looking far too pleased with the situation. The manservant always had an extraordinarily sweet smile—Arthur use to tease about it, claiming that Merlin should try on a dress and see how many knights would come try their luck. Some men, the prince decided, were just not very manly. "Best get rid of that foul mood fast, Sire; we have visitors, friends for you to play with! You ought to be on your best behavior, or His Majesty will have to revoke playtime!"_

_His servant than skipped out before Arthur could come up with a retort._

_"Cheeky idiot!" He snarled at no one in particular, "How can he be in such a good mood so early in the morning?" He moved to the table where his breakfast was laid out. "Oh. And he stole my food. _Merlin_!"_

* * *

><p>Watching Merlin in the castle clinic was very surreal.<p>

"No, you can't use spells to determine if it's a direct or indirect hernia," Merlin said adamantly to the druid healer, while Arthur stared baffled from his hiding place at the man who had his pants down—normally no one would dare be so audacious in front of the King, but he was still outside the clinic and had not been announced so no one inside knew he was there. "You need to push your finger into the superficial ring and have the man cough. If his bowels protrude then you will feel it and it's an indirect hernia. The spell does not differentiate between direct or indirect, it just tells you the general path of the hernia which is not at all useful. Sir, you look a little pale, are you feeling alright? Nauseous? Pain? Are you feeling sick? If you are do not try to hide it from us." The bewildered patient shook his head while the druid healer looked faintly frustrated. "I'm surprised you haven't treated inguinal hernias here in Camelot. They tend to be quite common. Sir, have you tried to put everything back? We're going to see if we can put it back."

Then Merlin, Healer Emrys, the manservant-who-is-actually-a-woman and the most powerful sorceress of all of Albion, got down on her knees from the chair and placed her hands on the patient's enlarged testicles before the man could even react. The patient squeaked and stepped back, stammering anxiously while begging for God's mercy.

"Stay still!" Merlin snapped at him, looking annoyed at the _patient_ because of course, how outrageous was it that the man was unnerved by a strange nubile young woman touching his private parts outside an intercourse setting "Don't go jumping about. I don't want your bowels to strangulate—you can die from that. We're going to try to put it back. Does it hurt when I do this?"

_Good grief, 'Does it hurt when I touch your testicles.' Are you kidding me Merlin? _A normal man's private parts would have made Arthur cringe, let alone this man's. _At least in some areas you are still the same dense idiotic Merlin we always knew._

"Maybe I should do it," The druid healer said with a frown, "It is not proper—"

"I don't want you to do it wrong," Merlin interrupted, "You need to push the bowels back from the testes and into his abdomen very carefully and this can take a while. Does it hurt sir? Do you feel nauseous when I do this? I think some of it went back in, let me see if we can get all of it."

Arthur rubbed his face at the sight. This was so wrong on so many levels…and bowels in the testes? _What?_

"Alright, it's definitely a reversible hernia," Merlin said, "Just stay calm and relax, please, this can take a while. Come over here," She ordered the druid, "See how I am doing it? Little by little. From the looks of it we might take about ten minutes to put everything back, the weakened area is sort of trapping his intestine so you have to slide it carefully. I'm going back to the chair."

She looked pale as the druid helped her up and sat her back down, but continued to supervise once she was settled. "Once you get it back try to see where it is going, if it is going through the superficial ring and to the deep ring, then you need to seal off the deep ring—and _only _the deep ring! Don't seal off the superficial ring because very important things go through there. If it's not going through the superficial ring then it's probably going on the other side of the epigastric vessels so you need to seal that entire area."

She sounded so experienced that Arthur wondered how many such cases she had to treat at her clinic. The idea was not a favorable one. She looked up with her brilliant blue eyes and caught sight of Arthur hiding behind the door. One dark eyebrow raised, though somehow Merlin managed to look so unamused that Arthur actually felt a little ashamed. He did not say anything, nor did she, since that would startle her patient.

She went back to instructing the druid. "There are three types of hernias…" She went on to list them in a way that went completely over Arthur's head. "…The patient will feel pain and sickness even without touching—it will be fairly obvious. If that's the case, that is an extreme emergency and you _have to operate as soon as_ possible—and I don't mean tomorrow, I mean _why aren't you picking up a scalpel and setting the patient up for surgery right this moment_. This cannot be done with spells, you have to do it the non-magical way because you need to replace the hernia before you do any healing. I'll go into how you do the operation when I'm feeling better. Unstrangulated reversible hernias you can wait for some time, this patient must have been going through it for years, is that right sir?"

The patient, who was bright red a moment earlier, was starting to look a little more normal, though this could not be a comfortable experience.

"Once you put it back, _then _you can use magic," Said Merlin.

"Yes Healer," Said the druid.

A silence fell as the druid continued to work. Arthur tried to make sense of this woman he once saw every day and almost could not get rid of. He stepped away from the doors of the clinic before Merlin could look up and glare at him again.

* * *

><p><em>"Well, I <em>was _supposed to be a healer apprentice, as opposed to a sword-swinging buffoon," Merlin scoffed while struggling awkwardly to rise, slim body almost weighed down by the armor itself. Arthur rolled his eyes at the display of sheer incompetence; his manservant must have less masculinity than any man he had ever met, and possibly some women._

_"Just because you are a healer doesn't mean you should be completely hopeless at defending yourself, _Mer_lin. Again."_

_"For crying out loud," Merlin whined, "Can't you do this with your knights who are more than happy to bash their skulls on the hilt of your sword? Why must you torment _me_?"_

_"Because if _you _know how to defend yourself better, I wouldn't have to spend all of my time guarding your sorry behind when we go out. Ready?" He struck, and Merlin blocked awkwardly, as always. _

_"Can't you just not bring me?"_

_"No." He struck again. Three blows in, and his manservant was down again._

_He groaned. "Aren't healers supposed to have _some _coordination, for things like surgeries and stuff?"_

_"Surgery hardly involves being pommeled by someone who might as well be a giant boar," His manservant complained while getting up again, panting, "You're as fat as one, that's for sure."_

_Merlin had frankly made so many comments about Arthur's weight due to the prince's rich diet that Arthur hardly even registered them anymore. He was far more displeased with the pout issuing from Merlin's face._

_"Seriously, Merlin, you're such a _girl._"_

_"If I admit it, will you stop hitting me?"_

_"No." Inside, Arthur was trying to repress a smile. Merlin also had that talent for making him want to laugh even when Arthur really _really _did not want to. In a way, part of Merlin's charm was how the servant was able to take any slights in that area in a stride. Denial would have seemed pathetic, but that calm acceptance and even good humor in the face of such insults was not something easily maintained, and in that area Merlin might be better than the most noble of knights._

_All the more reason to teach the idiot some self-defense._

_"Aw come _on _Arthur—"_

_"Ready!" Arthur barked, and struck._

* * *

><p>"I don't want patients here," Merlin said sharply to the druids while the King tried to quell his developing headache from sheer force of will, "No, You managed for five years without me, you can keep doing that. How am I supposed to do this if I have patients here? I cannot be in two places at once, whatever you might think of magic."<p>

"But we need you here," The druid healer pointed out, "Camelot is becoming a busy trading site, every year more and more people pass through. Your Majesty, surely—"

"I am _not _moving back to Camelot and that is _that,_" Merlin's face contorted into a fearsome scowl, one he had never seen on his manservant, at least. "So you can stop trying. I already stayed here for far too long as it is."

Arthur sighed. It was so hard, to see a person he had pined after for years and not recognize her at all.

"We can authorize the building of roads," He stated quietly.

Merlin blinked at him, reminding him of a bird. "What?"

He answered carefully, "Camelot _is _located more conveniently than your current clini, Healer Emrys. If you set up the clinic here, I can authorize the building of roads, to make it easier for patients to come."

"That is absurd," Merlin snapped, "You make it easier for invaders to come to Camelot as well. Are you stupid?"

"Invaders hardly need roads," Arthur pointed out, "And if we localize them to travel by road, they would be easier to monitor with guards. It is really not a big deal."

"And beyond Camelot's borders?"

"That is what diplomacy is for," Arthur replied, "We can make agreements for this. It's a start, and better than having your clinic stationed in Griton."

Merlin's eyes flickered back and forth rapidly and she looked both angry and terrified at the same time. It was interesting how Arthur was able to read her even though her face was like a mask; he could almost _sense_ her fear and frustration. She really did not want to stay, but as things were presented, it really _was _better for her to establish her clinic at Camelot instead, and to reject it on the basis of her personal issues was petty.

Merlin was never petty. Not even as his manservant.

"I am due to recover in three days," She told him at last, and Arthur resisted the urge to remind her that all the taxing on her body she had been doing was likely to drag that out even longer. "You have until that time to prove to me that this will happen. Otherwise, you will not see me again. Are we clear?"

Arthur inclined his head. "Yes, milady."

Startled, Merlin blinked owlishly at him, but Arthur was already turning around before she could change her mind.

_Small steps, one step at a time,_ He thought. He did not harbor much hope that he and Merlin will go back to how they once were, but at least there was a chance that she would stay after all. It was better than what he had before.


	5. Chapter Five

Lady of Magic

Chapter Five

Merlin's recovery ended up taking a week, a fact that served to make her irritable, which did not help. The King was efficient during this time, and it was clear by the fifth day that roads _will _be built, at least within Camelot itself.

She kept herself busy helping the druids, though after that first day they needed her less, especially as until she fully recovered, it was not safe for her to use her magic. The castle inhabitants regarded her with a mix of discomfort and familiarity. Most of her old friends had known her as the prince's manservant, and had never quite wrapped their heads around the image of her in a dress, much less a powerful sorceress and healer. For the most part, she saw only Gwen and Lancelot.

"What happened with you and the King?" Merlin asked.

Gwen was helping Merlin comb her hair, since Merlin could not reach back on her own.

"It just…didn't work out."

Merlin thought she would end there, but then she went on, "He changed, and I changed, over time, I guess. It was a dream to begin with," She paused, "I was never fit to be queen."

"What do you mean?"

"Arthur needed someone who knows how to run affairs," Gwen smoothed Merlin's hair, "Who can fight battles with him. He needs an ally. I've never had the training, nor do I have the willpower, really. I've been a servant all my life. I'm not use to leading, nor do I wish to."

"You don't have to define yourself by your birthright."

"No, but in this case, when I realized what was required of a King, and his Queen…it's not really something I want for myself, and as the crown changed Arthur—not for the bad, mind you, it's just…he stopped being able to give what I needed, and I could no longer fulfill what he wanted."

This saddened Merlin a little.

"So I married Lancelot."

The sorceress raised her eyebrows. She had not paid much attention, but the times she had seen Gwen and Lancelot together had not hinted of their relationship at all.

"Are you happy?" She asked, swallowing her surprise. It was not actually _shocking_, she was just not prepared for it when they were talking about the King.

"Yes," Gwen stepped back, smiling slightly. "Lancelot is a good man. Not Arthur, but we are good for each other, and it all turned out for the best."

It sounded that way, anyway.

"I wish you had told me," Gwen suddenly said, "This part, at least. It would have been nice to have a girl friend to chat with."

Merlin stared despondently. "I wanted to, too."

It _would _have been nice. It was not possible, given the dangers of her situation, especially in the beginning when she did not know who was trustworthy or of good character, and then later on when too much time had passed for any reveal to be considered. There were times, though, when Gaius had not been enough. Gaius had been like a father to her, but he was still a man. Sometimes Merlin wondered how she stumbled her way through the years without getting into trouble. So many things could have happened.

_So many things did._

It was in the past now, though. She had to look at the present, and in the present, there was the fact that she was looking very much at a full return to Camelot, with her clinic. Arthur is King, Morgana is still at large, Gwen is married to Lancelot and they had all grown up without each other for five years.

She could just withdraw, claim that she changed her mind. She hardly signed any sort of contract about moving to Camelot, and the King could not force her to stay. She had run away before. This would not be unusual.

_But what would you be running from?_ It had been five years. Camelot did welcome magic now, and now that she returned, she suddenly had to face all these people, these beings, who had searched for her through the years, waited for her, looked to her to lead them to their respective destinies. Ever since taking up the mantle of healer, Merlin had never failed anyone again, and to run away, to flee, would mean failing all these druids, all these people in Camelot who had nothing to do with the bad choices she had made and the mistakes that had cost her all of her happiness.

"What are you thinking about?" Gwen asked softly.

Merlin quirked a corner of her lip. She never had a chance to indulge this side of her with Gwen before, but now she allowed herself to. "Men."

"Oh?"

She shrugged, wondering if she wanted to drag on the pun a little longer, but decided not to. "Mankind." She turned away. "I'm going to be dragged into these sordid affairs again."

Gwen was quiet for a moment. "There is good in Camelot. You use to see it."

Merlin bowed her head. "I know."

"Why did you run?"

She clutched the skirts of her dress. "I was afraid."

"Of Arthur?"

She blinked, and the tears poured unexpectedly. "I was putting aside everything for his sake," She said in an even voice even as water trailed down her cheeks, "He was my world. My destiny." Arthur's face, filled with horror and disgust, loomed in the forefront of her mind. It was an expression she never had truly believed she would see, much less see directed at her. "I realized I had been…placing my future entirely in his hands—placing those I loved, those who loved me, in his hands, and that he…_was _capable of tearing all of us apart."

Gwen knelt in front of her, "But surely you heard how he was looking for you? He never stopped blaming himself for what happened. Why didn't you come back?"

Merlin shook her head, trying hard to compose herself. "I made _enemies _for him," She shook her head again, "You know, I was an outcast in Ealdor, but I was never anyone's _enemy._ If it had just been me, I would have…done everything _so _differently. I gave up my _identity_ for him, and it cost me my mother and my uncle." She wiped her eyes and her face, collecting herself. "I don't want to do that anymore. He might be King of Camelot, he could have whatever great destiny he wants, but there were things that I loved, things that I feared, that I placed aside for his sake because for years I thought he was more important than anyone else—more important than _me,_ or my _friends_, or my _family_—and that was _wrong._ I stayed away because I needed to find myself again, to remake my identity free from Arthur's shadow. I'm not making the same mistakes again. I am a Healer, nothing more, and if I'm going to be in Camelot now, I want him to keep his nose out of my clinic unless he actually needs healing, and I want nothing to do with whatever insipid politics this kingdom is dealing with." She glanced at herself. "I think it's obvious by now that I'm no warrior. I'll take care of Morgana, and maybe Mordred, but if he offends anyone else I will not be fighting for him."

* * *

><p><em>"So this is where the esteemed 'Emrys' is hiding." The voice practically oozed with ill-intent. Merlin looked up from her bubbling cauldron and stared flatly at the intruder.<em>

_"Hiding is perhaps a strong word," She replied, "For I made no effort to hide this clinic. Is there something you needed?"_

_"As a matter of fact, yes." He was a young man, around Merlin's age, but selfishness and greed had aged him, wore lines in his face from the expressions he wore as he contemplated how to ruin others. "I have a task, and someone of your abilities is most suitable for it."_

_"Someone of my abilities?" Merlin stirred, unconcerned, "And what abilities are those, pray tell?"_

_He chuckled. "No need to be so modest. All who know magic know who and what you are. King Arthur was a fool, to let you go, but you can be assured that I will make no such mistake."_

_"And who are you?" She looked at his profile._

_"I am Crestathion."_

_The name had some meaning for her, and as soon as he turned around to look at her expectantly, she realized why. Crestathion was a powerful wizard, and the druids had spoken of him before. She paused in her stirring to consider her response._

_"Crestathion of the White Mountains," She murmured, "You are far from home."_

_"I see my name precedes me."_

_"We are on even footing then," She resumed stirring, "But someone with your abilities hardly needs someone with mine.__"_

_"Not true. The task I have in mind requires both of us to work together."_

_She slid a lid over the cauldron to let it simmer. "Whatever it is, I cannot help you."_

_"Oh?" A warning laced his tone. "You will turn down the offer before you even hear what it is?"_

_"I do not want you to be my enemy," She turned to look at him flatly, "But neither will I be a partner to anything other than what I do here. This is a place of healing, a sanctuary for the sick. Should you ever need such services, the door is open to you. Otherwise," She pointed, "I will not be part of any plan of yours, for the good or ill of Albion. If you wish _me_ to be _your_ enemy, I will indulge. I will point out, 'tis better that you have this clinic at your disposal, than to incur the wrath of Emrys. Choose wisely."_

* * *

><p>When the time came, the King sent Sir Gwaine with her to retrieve her belongings and move her clinic. Gwaine was assigned a team of men to help, even though Merlin insisted she could stuff everything she owned in a knapsack and hardly needed such an escort.<p>

"Just go with it," Said the knight, looking at her strangely, "Having more people with us will divert attention away. The more people we have, the less likely bandits would want to attack."

"I can just fly there," Merlin told him in exasperation.

"Oh? And how are you going to bring the stuff back? Or are you going to just disappear on us again?" He took her hand to kiss it, causing Merlin to feel distinctly uncomfortable. "You'll allow us this assurance, we beg of you."

So it was that Merlin found herself on a wagon as the King stood silently a distance away, watching the company prepare to depart. He looked very alone despite being surrounded by Gwen and Lancelot and some of the other knights. It struck Merlin to realize that he had no family now, just like her, and had no family for a long time. It use to be that both of them had a parent to look after them, but now…Arthur's father had died years ago, his mother when he was born, and the woman he thought of as sister had only recently just tried to kill him. Even with allies and friends, it was still different from having family.

Maybe Arthur had reacted the way he did because he had been terrified too, to realize that the only people left close to him were those he did not know.

She raised a finger to point at him. "You better not stir up trouble, King. I'm not going all the way out and coming back just so that there's no place for me here."

The King looked slightly annoyed, though he hid it well. "The deal stands, Healer. You will have a place here."

She met his blue gaze, noting that as frustrated as he was, she was not quite willing to soften her end of their relationship. There was a power, to keep him at a distance, to _choose _not to be subordinate, warm up to him just because they had once been close. Despite feeling bad for him, she was not willing to necessarily be friends with him yet.

Or perhaps she did not know how.

* * *

><p><em>"I know you've probably had many try to persuade you—"<em>

_Merlin groaned. "What is it with you people and your obsession with Camelot?"_

_"Camelot remains an important nation, Healer. Its fate impacts the welfare of all." The female druid moved to block Merlin as she tried to head back out._

_"If you're so worried, perhaps _you _should go to Camelot to help its king. Why harass me? I made it clear, time and again. I don't want to go back. I am doing perfectly fine here; it is a role in life I _chose_, __here I do no harm to anyone and all that goes on outside the clinic is of no relevance to me. Now get out of my way because I have patients waiting."_

_"Healer, the fate of the King determines thousands upon thousands of lives—"_

_"So that makes him more important than the common man?"_

_"There is a growing threat, Healer," The woman grabbed her sleeve, "One you may not see coming, but the seers do."_

_"Morgana, Mordred, the usual."_

_"Nay. The darkness to come is far too profound to assume mortal shape, and Camelot is the key to our defense. _You _are the key to our defense."_

_Merlin laughed bitterly. "Sure. I'll crawl back to Arthur proclaiming something about destinies, this darkness that is far too profound for even me to see, and beg him to accept me back to Camelot like a starving dog. If Camelot needs me so much, you can go ahead and tell them where I am right now and he can knock on my door if he wishes. Just keep in mind all the patients here, and the lives that you place in his hands when you do. Now get out. I have work to do."_

* * *

><p>"I knew there was something off about you," Gwaine said conversationally as he rode next to the wagon.<p>

"Oh?"

"You were too pretty for a boy," Gwaine winked.

Merlin rolled her eyes and felt something in her ease with how comfortable Gwaine was being. "Same old Gwaine, eh?"

"There was never hope for me changing," He pointed out. "I daresay, you look _exquisite_ when you're _not _running around pretending to be a man."

"Knowing the number of women you have seen in your life, I shall take that as a compliment."

"You should. I have seen many beauties," Gwaine flashed her a toothy smile.

"And yet I see none by your side." This was an honest question, though. "Is it by choice, or ill luck, Sir Knight?"

"Perhaps a bit of both." Gwaine smirked again. "Perhaps that will change, upon this new…no, not 'addition', perhaps 'readdition', to Camelot?"

Merlin chuckled, "After watching from the other side, I am quite wise to you now, Sir."

"Are you? It has been years."

"I am quite wise to all of you, now." Merlin looked away.

* * *

><p><em>"I don't remember," The girl was frightened, "I don't remember what happened. All I knew was, I drank some wine, and then the next thing that happened was me waking up in the shack, and my clothes were all over the place. I'm ten days late, and I don't even know who did this to me."<em>

_Merlin squeezed her hand, heart heavy. The girl was such a pretty child, face sweet and guileless and innocent. It took a cruel, vicious beast to do what was done to her, and Merlin thought back to her time in Camelot—she wondered, naïve and ignorant as she had been, if perhaps her disguise as a boy had saved her from much of the atrocities that were committed to girls just like her patient. How many suave, smooth, handsome men had she seen were actually those like this child's rapist? How many men hid their cruelty behind a mask of gentility and chivalry?  
><em>

_"You are pregnant," She said softly, "But your child will not live__." The growing baby was not viable, which could not be said for some of the other victims Merlin had seen. "I can remove it for you, so that it will be painless. Do you have anyone to talk to?"_

_The poor girl shook her head, sniffling quietly. "I'm scared. They'll blame it on me, say I shouldn't have drunk the wine. Is there…" She hesitated, "Is there a spell, to make me forget this ever happened?"_

* * *

><p>When night fell, Merlin morphed into her bird form and fluttered to the branches to rest as the company set up camp. Gwaine smirked at this for some reason, but did not explain why. A fire was lit, tents were set up as well as bedrolls, and the horses were released to be fed.<p>

"Can't be too comfortable up there," Gwaine finally beckoned to her.

Merlin stubbornly tucked her head under her wing. Her neck was not quite long enough to hold this position for too long, but the statement was clear.

"Aren't you hungry, lass?" Gwaine lifted a piece of bread and cheese.

Not especially. She had no interest in joining the company of men, and after a moment, Gwaine finally shrugged and turned to the rest of them to eat. The night passed this way, and eventually everyone settled down to sleep, after tossing a few logs into the fire.

She slept for a while, her dreams quiet and still, but was suddenly roused for seemingly no reason. Twitching her head back and forth, she tried to determine what startled her.

_Merlin…_

_Mordred,_ Merlin returned, narrowing her eyes.

She fluttered from the branch to ascend high into the treetops before diving down toward where she knew the druid boy was. Mordred was taller than the last time she saw him, lanky and awkward even under his robes. She transformed into her human form and landed on a high branch, looking down at him.

"What do you want?" She snapped.

Mordred took his time in answering, probably also because this was the first time he had seen her as a woman. He appeared to be alone, but Merlin knew that right beneath where she stood crouched other druids who were his allies. They probably had expected her to land on the ground like a normal person, but they probably also did not expect her to arrive as a hawk.

"Five years, you have stayed away," He said to her, "You should not have come back."

She tilted her head. "And why is that?"

"Five years, we have left you alone," Mordred's eyes narrowed, "Despite your betrayal of our kind. If you pursue a return, Emrys, we will not spare you the onslaught."

Briefly, Merlin considered killing the brat right then and there. A mere lightning from the sky, and Mordred would not even have time to utter another useless threat.

"You're all mad," She said flatly, "You fight a war that was over long ago. I'm not wasting any more breath with you. Go play with your spells, and quit taking up my time."

The spell took her almost by surprise, snapping the branch she was standing on. She plummeted as another spell shot her way. Yanking her arms up, she emitted a flash of light, blinding the druids around her. She twisted her body so that she landed on her feet and fought not to cry out as pain stabbed through her bones at the harsh landing. Rage reddened her vision, especially at the reminder of how she had missed with Morgana. She dove into a roll and swept out an arc of magic. It sliced through the thick trunks of trees like they were butter, and through the woody crunches she also heard the sick sound of flesh tearing, blood squirting from the vessels.

She did not stop, instead sending a rush of waves. In the distance, Mordred screamed as he was struck.

_Shut up,_ Merlin thought venomously, aiming another spell in his direction. Dust swept up as if a mighty hand scooped at the dirt. She balanced on one knee and took stock. In the distance, some druids were running, fleeing.

"Merlin!" Gwaine cried out, and there was a clunk of armor as the knight hurried to her. "Merlin, what—"

Mordred was still alive, his legs chopped off clean above the knee and blood spurting out from his arteries. His eyes glowed gold uselessly in stress. Merlin's own legs felt like they had been crushed, but a quick spell made her alright again. The other druids were dead, a lot of them decapitated. She got up, brushing the dirt off her skirts. Gwaine was too stunned to offer to help.

"Milady?" One of the other men inquired nervously.

Merlin considered Mordred and fought to crush the healer's instinct to stop the bleeding. She lost.

"Now what did you think was going to happen?" She demanded, as she reattached the limbs and tore off the hem of Mordred's robes to wrap them, "Tell you what, I let you go and we call it even; we both tried to kill each other, although technically I once saved your life, so you owe me one. Why don't you go take this opportunity and think on your life and what you've accomplished. In the meantime, stay the hell out of my way. For your information, I'm moving to Camelot because I run a clinic and more patients can come to me if I'm in Camelot than in Griton. I'm actually trying to improve the world and people's lives. What have _you _been doing? Leading the druids to fight war that ended when King Arthur welcomed magic to Camelot. This is why I hate teenagers." She stood up, wiping her hands on Mordred's torn robe. "Figure out what the hell you're doing before you risk your life and the lives of those around you, _brat_."

* * *

><p>Gwaine was quiet the next morning when they continued on their way. Merlin was in a foul mood. She was a healer, this was not supposed to be any of her business. It seemed Camelot was determined to turn her into a murderer.<p>

"You are alright?" He asked after a while, "You are unhurt?"

"I'm fine," She snapped. "What do you want?"

He withdrew to give her space. "Just checking on you. Worried, that's all."

"I can take care of myself!"

"I know, I know," He said in a placating tone. Merlin glared ahead.

_If Mordred shows up again, I swear I will cut off his head, healer or not…_

"Why did you let him go?"

"Don't ask." Merlin growled. "I don't know. Besides, we left him alone in the middle of the woods. Heaven knows if he survived the night."

"Do you regret it?"

"Yes," Merlin bit, "But what's the use?" She had already killed the other druids. Executing Mordred was different from killing in the heat of self-defense. "This whole sordid affair is abominable. Hopefully that brat is of some use, he can go warn others to stay out of my way."

"You _have _changed a lot," Gwaine mused.

Merlin said nothing. She doubted Gwaine knew the full extent of what she had done as Arthur's manservant, that she had killed back then, too, with far more intent than she did this time. Now, it seemed, simply going back to Camelot was pigeon-holing her into the role she once played.

So much for being just a healer.


	6. Chapter Six

Lady of Magic

Chapter Six

Merlin arrived in the middle of a court session, which meant by the time Arthur heard anything about it, she had already set to work establishing the clinic for about two hours.

Kicking himself, because while there was no way for him to receive her personally due to important matters of the state, Arthur had not wanted her to just show up without some sort of reception, he hurried to where she was setting up with a feeling of dread. With this new Merlin, there was no telling if she would take offense at his absence.

It had been some time since he had to answer to others. Being a King meant everyone had to work around _his _schedule. Having to watch for someone else's temper was a bit unpleasant.

Merlin was totally unaffected, as it turned out.

"These go here, these go there, and this goes here, what's that?" She did not even give the servant time to answer. "Hang that up. Move these into the shade, they don't like sunlight, keep that area dry. Leave my clothes alone, I'll deal with them later. Watch it—don't spill that! Your Majesty," She said curtly, before resuming her directions. Gwen moved to stand next to him.

"Gwaine told Lancelot that there was a little run-in with some unfriendly druids, Mordred, to be precise."

"Is everyone alright?"

"No casualties, but Merlin's been spitting fire ever since." Gwen noted the healer.

"Those are my surgical tools, place them in the bottom left drawer. Don't make that face, did you think you could do surgery with pillows and a blankie? Yes that _is _a saw. Put it away. I want the beds turned this way. That's my reflex hammer, put it on the table." There was a sudden crack of a lightning bolt, startling both Arthur and Gwen. "I won't have rats in my clinic! Those things are diseased! Someone collect that vermin and throw it out. We need a mouser here."

Merlin was still in her travel garb, and her hair was falling out of its knot. She was absently rubbing the back of her neck where it met her skull, an unconscious sign that she was developing a headache. Arthur knew that because of his own habits, and he also recognized that intense light in her eyes as she directed the hustle and bustle around her.

"Move the towels there—what's that thing on your face?"

"Uh…um, 'tis a wart, milady."

"A wart! Didn't you see the druid healers for that?"

"Oh…um," The young woman stammered, "Well, I di'n't think to, ma'am."

"Blast it all, I don't have the things out. Come back tomorrow when the clinic is open and I'll have that seen to. The towels, that way. You! Bring those needles over here, I need to check their condition."

"Healer," Arthur called uncertainly, "Is everything alright here?"

Merlin looked at him, eyes brilliantly blue. "Yes, everything is fine."

"Alright." Arthur glanced at Gwen, trying not to show how uncomfortable he felt at the moment, before quietly leaving.

* * *

><p>Merlin had never accepted an official invitation to dinner, so this time Arthur did not even try. He found it appropriate to check on her before the meal, though, and found her lying flat on her back on her bed, hands covering her forehead. She had changed into her healer's uniform, and actually looked quite…striking, in it, all clean and white and pristine.<p>

The healer opened her eyes to regard him, then closed them again, dismissing him.

"Are you alright?" He asked. "Do you need a headache potion?"

"I already took one," She said in a flat voice, "I'm just tired. Is there something you needed?"

"Just checking in," He said quietly.

"I'm fine," Merlin sat up with a sigh, "Moving is hard work, that's all. I don't remember last time being this much work."

"You had less to place, back then."

"True." She glanced at the windows. "Isn't it suppertime yet?"

"Yes." Arthur clenched his fist. "Care to join me?" He asked. Perhaps a verbal invitation would work better than a written one. Written ones felt more impersonal, official. Come to think of it, he wondered why he never thought to do it this way before.

Merlin visibly hesitated, and he could almost see the conflict in her fair features.

"Sure," She said finally, "What are you having?"

It occurred to him, when they did move to the dining room where the dishes were set initially for one, that he had never eaten with Merlin as equals before. He wondered how she would dine, considering that Merlin, for all intents and purposes, had been a stellar actress and despite having a particularly _unmanly _diet, or as some would argue, _inhuman_ diet, she had eaten her meals like any man would; sloppily.

She was not exactly _dainty_, this time around, but neither was she outrageous. She was normal and neat, and if Arthur had not been paying attention he would not have seen anything worth noticing.

"Cooks here missed you," He said to her, "They said you particularly liked your vegetables."

"It's true," She seemed to cut herself a slice of meat deliberately, "Though I had to wonder if my diet was the healthiest."

Aware that she was summoning the healer within her, possibly as a self-protective measure, Arthur rolled along with it. "Have you altered it since then?"

"I've tried," Merlin shrugged. "It's a hard thing, food. You'd think it's straightforward; eat what's available, and the best of, but there seems to be a threshold for everything." She seemed to relax as she realized he was allowing her to indulge this side of her. "At the clinics I would be exhausted, especially as time went on and it became more well-known. People from all over the lands would show up and it was all I could do to give myself one day off per week. Not that I ultimately rested much—that day off I wound up doing a lot of paperwork and maintenance, but it was a day without patients." She looked at him, and Arthur thought he saw a little of the mischievous, humorous Merlin he once knew. "Patients are a rather difficult lot to deal with, ultimately. They're usually quite nice, but they're usually quite miserable, and you feel miserable along with them."

"I'm sure."

"So when I get tired, I'm usually too weary to eat," She shook her head, "A night of rest does not do much in the long run. As the days went on I realized that something simply was not working. I couldn't seem to maintain my energy and strength. And don't you joke about how it has to be better than sword-waving."

Arthur only smiled. "So, food, then?"

"A little more meat in the diet ended up going a long way," She stuck a piece in her mouth and abruptly stopped talking.

Arthur tilted his head and waited a little for her to finish chewing. "Why didn't you hire some assistants?"

"To what?" Merlin stated a little dryly, "Anyone with magic is either trying to get me to return to Camelot or destroy Camelot. It's actually quite amazing, the lack of neutral parties. Oh! This reminds me, I have to put up wards." Merlin made a face. "Well we're in the middle of the city, I think I can stand to let the clinic hang for a few more hours." She actually looked genuinely distressed then.

"How long does it take to put up wards?" Not that Arthur knew what she meant, but he could guess.

"It would take hours," She glanced at the dark windows and for all her stony facade, seemed on the verge of tears.

"I'm sure you can afford to wait a night," The King said gently, thinking to himself that for her icy mask, the ice was actually quite transparent. "You've just arrived. There are plenty of adjustments that are needed."

"This is true." She speared her meat with her fork. "And the knights of Camelot are far more noble than the knights of Griton." She said this in a preoccupied manner, so Arthur was not sure if she meant for him to hear it.

"If there are any ingredients that are especially important, it's a small matter of stationing one of my men."

"The ingredients," Merlin shook her head, "It's not the ingredients, though I'll have you know I had to wrestle a good number of deals from those fat merchants. It's the patients. I will have none of the politics or ruffled sorcerers when there are frightened, sick, miserable people under my care. The number of idiots I've had to punish back in Griton to get that message across—hopefully that lesson still stands. I hate repeating myself. Which reminds me: my clinic is as good as a sanctuary, Your Majesty. If there is anyone you _don't _want treated, it's your job to keep him from stepping through the door. Once he's inside, unless he starts threatening all my other patients, your knights have no business conducting any affairs in my clinic. I don't care if that person's Morgana. In fact, I've treated Morgana. I don't care if that person's your worst enemy. You keep that person away from my clinic. If you fail to do so, I will not go back on my oath as healer for you. Understand?"

Arthur leaned back. Honestly, he had expected this sort of condition, based on what he saw of Merlin in the days she had been here, as well as earlier today. "Crystal," He replied, his mind already wandering to something else she had mentioned. "What did you do to get your message across in Griton?"

Merlin blinked. "That's a story for another time."

She was nervous, suddenly, and Arthur regretted indulging in his curiosity. It was far too early, plus, any harassment she had received in Griton was probably not a topic she would want to share.

"It's good to have you back," He finally said to her, "I've…thought of you often."

She said nothing, instead staring determinedly at her plate, as if it would shield her from him somehow. Strange, how she was so terrified even though she had so much power.

"I know you sacrificed a lot for my sake," He bowed his head, "I didn't appreciate you as much as you deserved."

"It's in the past now." Merlin suddenly rose, her expression very closed. Arthur rose with her.

"It might be in the past," He told her, "But it continues to slide between us. You can't ignore that."

She wrung her hands, and Arthur was fairly certain she did not even know that she was doing it.

"You've grown," He said, "And so have I. There were many things I have done in the past that were blatantly foolish. I just want you to know I am sorry."

She looked at him, and then looked away.

"Hm!" She exclaimed, "When I forget how much of a prat you were, sometimes I missed you too."

Then Merlin fled—it was really the only way to describe how she left.

Arthur found himself unable to contain the grin that split his face.

* * *

><p>Merlin opened up her clinic to a busy first day, which indicated a huge success. Arthur could see why she would be tired, as everyone flocked to the clinic, some of them with rather minor ailments, such as the servant with the wart on her face. Others were there out of curiosity, but Merlin indulged them kindly, and in that she was the same Merlin Arthur had always known.<p>

As Healer Emrys, Merlin was extremely professional, but when she came across babies she cooed and ahhed at them as much as any woman.

"Here, check this out, Artie," She called to him when he came near; he was not wearing his crown, which would have startled the patients, and she obligingly did not refer to him as king although it might be more because she wanted to grate on his nerves. "Look at Lily—she's a week old," And the scrunched up red face blinked sleepily up at him, "I love demonstrating this. Caius! Here, come over here, I'm going to show you the primitive reflex. They go away starting at about four to six weeks. See here," And she balanced the baby in her arm so it was curled up in a fetal position, arms and legs tucked against its body. "This is also called the 'startle reflex'."

Then she dropped the baby.

Well, not _drop, _exactly. She did suddenly lower the baby's head so it must have felt like she had dropped it, and in reaction the baby suddenly extended its arms and legs. It was something Arthur would have thought to be only natural, but seeing it in this context made him realize…

_It's a _reflex_…_in this squirming little thing. Whenever someone dropped it like that, it would react this way.

_That's kind of amazing._

Caius, a young druid boy, gaped at the sight, while Lily started making disgruntled noises.

"You catch that? See how she extended? She has a pretty strong one, this means this part of her neural development is intact. We're going to try and find an older infant and you'll see the reflex is much smaller. Here, let me do this again," She tucked the baby's arms and legs back to the fetal position as Arthur stared at its mother, wondering what she thought of all this, but the mother stared incredulously at her own child and seemed to trust Merlin. The next time Merlin 'dropped' Lily, the baby became fed up and started wailing.

"Awwww I know you didn't like that, awwwww," Merlin made comforting noises to it, "You see that, Artie?"

Arthur made a face. "Yes." It was actually pretty fascinating, but he maintained that babies were awful creatures. Men should leave taking care of them to women.

"Aww, alright, let's do something that you'll like a little more, alright? This is called the grasp reflex…"

After she tortured the baby some more, interlaced with exclamations of what a good baby Lily was, she handed it back to its mother and turned to Arthur.

"Do you need something?" She asked, and it seemed working with the child could not dampen her spirits because there was a smile on her face.

"Just checking to see how you are doing."

"You've been doing that a lot," She noted.

Not sure how she would take an honest answer, Arthur attempted to lace it with a half truth. "I'm also curious about what you're doing."

"Liar," Merlin said immediately, unimpressed, "Though you're free to watch. Maybe something you see here will prove useful to you."

He did stay a while, though soon he had to leave. Merlin worked all the way until late in the evening, and she was so tired that when Arthur took her by the elbow, she did not even complain.

"You don't have to work so hard," He told her, as he walked her to the kitchens to get something to eat, "You need to take care of yourself too, you know."

"I know how to take care of myself," She said with some annoyance, "I've been doing so for five years, mind you. It's just that today was the first day. First days are always hard."

* * *

><p>"She's settling in well," Lancelot noted as they adjusted their weapons during training. "Kind of odd though, always knew her as a servant. She's so demanding."<p>

She was, but it was hard to criticize her when the same trait made her ruthlessly efficient. Arthur wondered how he ever managed to think of Merlin as a hapless idiot. Considering all the other things she hid, it was probably a front, placed so that he would never suspect her of hiding anything simply because she did not look capable of doing so.

"The people love her though," Arthur murmured.

"Didn't think anyone would actually _like _going to the clinic," Lancelot grimaced, "Though I'm betting, part of the reason is because she's…well, a _woman_."

The idea that people in Camelot were coming to see Merlin for _that _made Arthur inexplicably annoyed.

"She's far less silly without that blasted haircut, 'tis true. She's no real beauty though. Too odd-looking."

"It could be that. Beauty's not the only thing that attracts a man," Lancelot reminded him, "It could simply be that she's strange, and you don't see too many female healers about."

"No," Arthur conceded. The two then scattered to train with the other knights.

It was after training when Lancelot picked up the topic again.

"So now that she's here, what are you going to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, when you were looking for her, Sire, I don't think you were quite expecting this."

It was true. Arthur had no idea what he was expecting, but for one thing, he was not expecting a competent healer out of Merlin. He never actually thought she was an idiot, but going from a servant to a doctor was a pretty huge metamorphosis, and all of the sudden she was somehow getting away with not answering to him, not obeying his orders, not even really swearing fealty, really.

"I don't know," He shrugged, running his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair. "I can't really expect her to go into servitude, not with how she is now. She's free to do what she pleases, and she's already done a lot for this kingdom. She seems to enjoy what she does, and I can't complain about the state of affairs."

"Hopefully she settles down," Said Lancelot, "We managed to steal her from Griton, let's hope that no one steals her from us."

"Hm." Arthur was a bit distracted with Gwaine. Ever since returning with Merlin from Griton, the normally extroverted knight had been awfully withdrawn.

Lancelot seemed to notice the same thing. "Oi!" He called to Gwaine, "What's been up with _you _lately? Our resident enchantress hurt your sensitive feelings?"

"What are you on about?"

"What do you mean what am I on about? Crazy ol' chap," Lancelot swung his arm around Gwaine's dusty shoulder, "Brooding does not suit you, my friend, and that is what you are doing."

"I'm not _brooding._"

"Says the brooder. I know that certain lasses go for the dark, mysterious type, but you just can't pull it off, my friend."

Gwaine's face broke into a smile. "Is that a challenge?"

"Nay, 'tis the sad truth. Some things, Gwaine, even _you _can't do."

"Oh obviously," The knight exclaimed, and Arthur hid a smile; sometimes he really enjoyed the dynamics between his men, "But anything to do with lasses, I can do."

"Oh?" Lancelot raised his eyebrows. "Even Merlin?"

"Merlin!" Gwaine raised his eyebrows. "Are you daring me to seduce Merlin?"

"Not 'seduce'," Lancelot groaned, but then his expression changed, "Unless you _are _interested. Is that why you were brooding, Sir Gwaine?"

And with that, Arthur's inner smile disappeared.

"Heavens, no," Gwaine then remarked, "I would not dare. They were not kidding when they said she was powerful, you know."

The King blinked. Lancelot, who was very insightful as well, picked up the same thing.

"You are _spooked!_" The man exclaimed, "Is Sir Gwaine actually spooked by the lass?"

"Not _spooked_," Gwaine scowled, "But 'twould be far too insensible—even for me—to pursue such a meaningless excursion with the most powerful sorceress in Albion. Nay, some women are better left alone."

He _was _spooked, no doubt by that incident with the druids that Gwen said Merlin was spitting fire about. Arthur wondered what happened, but knew better than to ask. As King, he could always order Gwaine to reveal it, but he also knew how important it was to protect a man's pride, especially if that man was his ally. Whatever Merlin did had truly terrified Gwaine, and strangely, he sensed that the better person to ask might actually be Merlin herself.

* * *

><p>Merlin was feeding one man a vast amount of liquor when Arthur next went to her clinic.<p>

"I know you're feeling in a bad way," She said to the man, "Just because something has the word 'spirit' in its name does not mean you should drink it. Wood spirits were used for embalming, my man. Next time, stick to drinks you're familiar with—though I suppose at this point you are quite familiar with the side-effects of wood spirits."

"What happened?" Arthur asked, curious what sort of ailment would warrant liquor as a treatment.

"Wood spirit, nasty things, those," Said the young woman, "Drink it down. I know you feel sick. If you need to vomit, do so. This thing's half life is about two days." She then focused her voice on Arthur. "Close enough to regular spirit to warrant experimenting by brave, adventurous individuals—far enough from regular spirit to be distinctly unsafe to drink. Blindness is the least of our worries."

"Why the liquor?" He asked.

"Lesser of two evils," Said Merlin, "Though I do wish we had something purer. Clearing toxins can be quite tricky with magic, unless the toxins are magical themselves. His eyesight may suffer either way, though I definitely will be able to keep him from going completely blind. Is there something you needed?"

"Nothing that can't wait."

"I'm not exactly doing something very involved right now," She pointed out, taking away the bottle to allow the patient to wallow. She looked at him, and Arthur was struck by her expression; it was so similar to her expression as his manservant, except she no longer had the boyish haircut.

He felt uncertain how she would react to his question. "Do you know what is going on with Gwaine? He has been acting strangely ever since you two returned.

"Oh." Merlin gestured so they could move to somewhere more private. "I imagine he's not use to seeing damsels taking care of themselves."

"What do you mean?"

"We were attacked by Mordred's group. You remember him?"

Yes, Arthur remembered him.

"Let's just say there was a showdown, one that's far more effective than any of your sword-waving. I would wager that I gave Sir Gwaine something to think about." Merlin reached out to pick out a chart. The wall hummed a little. "Blast it, the wards are being temperamental." She glared unhappily at the wall, which started glowing. "Oh for crying out loud," She whacked the wall once, and it stopped glowing. "Something about these stones just doesn't like the wards."

"Gwaine's seen a lot of things," Arthur mused, "I don't know. You're not the first sorceress he's come across."

"I don't know, why don't you ask him?"

Arthur sighed.

"I slaughtered them all," Merlin then appended, sounding a bit defensive, "I might have gone a little over the top, but I didn't want a repeat of what Morgana did to me."

"Of course not." Just the idea gave Arthur chills. For a moment, he was back in the throne room, the ice melting around them in a rush and flooding around Merlin, her hair swirling with the red blood that was washed from the floor and from her belly.

"I let Mordred go," Merlin released a hiss, "I still don't know why I did that."

"…" _She did _what _now?_

"Healer!" One of the druids called to her, and Merlin whisked past him to address whatever issue had come up. The wall next to him started humming again.

"Uh…Merlin? The wards…?"

"Just whack it," She called, "You're good at that, last time I checked."

Intrigued, the King did so and was rewarded.

"Huh. Is that how you deactivate it?"

"Of course not. Here, take this," She told the patient, "One drop in each eye, before bedtime. I'll see you in about seven days to check and see how that pressure is doing. Caius, can you take over for a moment? These wards are only going to act up more and more," She then hurried over to the King, "Alright, what's wrong with you," She said to the wall, and began tracing a line only she could see with her fingers.

Arthur stepped back, watching her work. "Is Mordred going to be a problem?" He asked.

"I'm not sure, I'm not a seer," She replied, and for a moment her eyes flashed bright gold. She seemed to shift something very heavy, enough that had Arthur not remembered he did not have magic, he would have offered to help, or something about as daft. "Supposedly he will be creating trouble for Camelot for a long time to come. Don't ask me why I didn't just kill the brat because I don't know."

"If that is his destiny," Arthur said slowly, "We'll take it as it goes. It's not worth the price, usually, when you go against something like that. I'm glad you didn't try."

She turned around to consider him, her eyes still faintly gold.

"Where'd you learn that?" She asked, "I never taught you that."

"Merlin," Arthur slipped unconsciously into a mock sneer, "When have you ever _taught me _anything?"

"I've taught you a fair few things, like how to put on your shirt."

"I knew how to put it on long before you arrived, lass."

"Right," Merlin smirked, and Arthur was suddenly filled with the strange urge to kiss that smile. "In that case, I should have just let you walk out in public with your shirt inside out, or on backwards."

"I was never a morning person," Arthur defended, "Only you could be so chipper in the morning. I swear, you were the worst servant I ever had."

"And you were undoubtedly the worst master _I _ever had," She teased back and she was beautiful, with her sparkling eyes and cheeky grin.

"I'm the _only _master you ever had."

"Semantics, semantics."

"Healer!" Caius ran to her, "Do I infuse more alcohol?"

"Let's see how much he's vomited," Merlin turned away, calling to another patient that she will be right with her. Arthur smiled to himself and silently withdrew from the clinic. He still was not sure what was going on with Gwaine, but at least he had some material to work with.


	7. Chapter Seven

Lady of Magic

Chapter Seven

For the next few weeks, Merlin did not actually see much of the King. She was busy in the clinic, occasionally modifying the wards but mostly seeing patients and directing her apothecary, while Arthur attended to his Kingly duties. They did not even eat together again because their schedules were so off, and she never got a chance to inquire after Sir Gwaine. On occasion, Gwen would drop by, but the clinic was far too intense for someone like her, and Merlin found that even though her true gender was now in the open, somehow the two women had little to talk about.

She was starting to see why Gwen claimed she was a bad fit for Arthur; the woman was the sweetest thing in the world, but she lacked curiosity and simply did not enjoy learning. Merlin found herself constantly talking in medical jargon, and anything and everything reminded her of a patient case she saw or had not seen, or something she had read in the books, and it was all a little much for Gwen, who had always been content with simply knowing what she needed to learn as a servant and little else. After a while, Gwen only dropped by infrequently, and despite being surrounded by familiar walls and a familiar diversity of people, Merlin found her living situation to be quite like Griton, with considerably less harassment but just as many loved ones.

To be honest, it was actually quite nice. Camelot was a rich city, and in the years Merlin had been away, Arthur had turned it into a major trading center. On her days off, Merlin had the druids look over the supplies for her and do her paperwork, which meant she had time to head out into the marketplace to look at the variety of goods. There were many things she had never seen in her entire life, coming from places she had never heard of, including magical items from the east and south, ancient artifacts from a world long extinct, spices and fabrics and perfumes that came from another realm. On occasion, Merlin even found herself staring longingly at certain jewelry or dolls, but a healer had no use for such items, and her clinic was not so profitable that she could afford to withdraw funds from her budget to buy these sort of things instead of the precious life-saving ingredients and herbs that were for her patients.

On one such day, she met a man.

"So," He said, "You are the famous Healer Emrys."

He was a giant of a man, pale and blonde, even more so than the King. Over one shoulder he carried a large bag. She reckoned he hailed from the northeast where the sun only shone for half a year. It was said such people were remarkably buff. This man certainly was.

"And you are?" She looked up at his bearded face.

"Noret Hunter, at your service."

"Oh." She studied him. "What can I do for you?"

"I come on behalf of Crestathion."

_Oh dear._ "I see," Merlin folded her basket in front of her. "What does he want from me?"

"He heard that you have relocated to Camelot," Said Hunter, "Since you are clearly back in the fold, he hopes that you might be disposed to…lend a bit of your time, to a small matter of great importance."

"I see." Merlin lifted the basket. "Take a look. What do you see?"

Hunter was mildly startled. He looked in.

"I don't know. Plants. Herbs, I reckon."

"Ah," Merlin drew the basket back, "So I move to Camelot, and everyone instantly assumes that I am returning to politics. I hope you will go back to Master Crestathion with the message that this is not the case." She turned around before Hunter could protest. "I am relocating to Camelot because of the traffic here, good sir. Please relay this message to him. He is welcome to my clinic for treatment, as are you, but I will not partake in anything that will keep me from my duties."

"You are a diligent one," Hunter mused, falling into step beside her. "Crestathion is not a man to be refused lightly."

"I think you mistake me for someone else," Merlin said casually, "I once refused your esteemed friend to his face. What makes you think I would dare any less to his messenger?"

"He left you alone, because you were clearly not in Camelot, and had nothing to do with Camelot. Times are changing, Healer Emrys, and we all must adapt. Camelot plays at the center of it all, as you must know."

"Either way, it is none of my business."

"Odd, then, that you would choose to relocate here. Are you not at all interested in preserving the location of your clinic?"

Merlin drew to a halt. "Is that a threat, Hunter?"

"I consider it…advice," The big man turned to her, his grey eyes hard as steel, "If you wish to maintain your merry clinic, you will have to look out for the interests of where it is. You originally based it in Griton, a kingdom of little importance. Now that you have moved to Camelot, you will have to choose your side, and I recommend you do so wisely."

Merlin blinked. "What side is Master Crestathion on?"

"The side that benefits him the most, quite obviously," Hunter replied, "And whether that also benefits Camelot depends entirely on you."

_Is he afraid I might rise against him if I do not join him?_

"I am no threat to him," Merlin scoffed. "It's amazing how dense some people are. I thought I made it quite clear."

"You misunderstand," Hunter leaned close, and though Merlin was tall, this man was taller; he loomed over her, and despite all her magic, Merlin felt very small. "Either you are his friend, or you are his foe. Camelot stands at the precipice of revolution, and whether it survives it depends on your wisdom."

Merlin was silent, staring steadily at him.

"In the coming days, I expect you will receive many similar messages." The man leaned back. "I am staying at the inn in the west. You know where to find me, once you decide. Choose wisely."

* * *

><p>It had been a long time since Merlin had been faced with a situation in which she had no idea what to do. She did not want to return to the old way of life, where she had risked life and sanity to protect Arthur and Camelot, to the point where she hardly knew who she was herself. The threat had been real, though, and it seemed like she will be facing more of those as time went on.<p>

It was strange to realize how much she had relied on Gaius back then. She wondered if her old guardian had ever felt as conflicted as she did right now. At the time, she had felt absolved of some responsibility in decision-making. Certainly, she had made choices on her own, but there was always the sense that if she ever made the wrong one, Gaius would be there to pick up the pieces, and most of the time Gaius had.

Gaius is gone now. She is on her own. He had been gone for five years, but the pain of his death still felt as fresh as yesterday, and for a moment Merlin could hardly believe she spent the last few years running her own clinic and becoming a healer in her own right.

_What do I do?_

She owed it to the King, for letting her come here and building roads specifically for her—well, not _specifically,_ Merlin was not _that _naïve, but if Camelot was in danger, Hunter was right in that she had an obligation to protect the place her clinic was situated in. At the very least, she ought to warn the King that Camelot might come under attack. _Again._

He probably could offer nothing new…but maybe Arthur had grown, maybe he might have some insight?

* * *

><p>"He's a coward," Merlin heard the King remark, "Show him a little attitude and he cowers, that's the lot. Write down that Camelot will not be signing any contracts for any business deals until he displays the goods. Little cheat thinks I'm born yesterday, I'm not having any of that."<p>

_"Yes, Sire."_

"As for Farnsworth, write that if he does not take care of the bandits along the borders, Camelot will no longer suffer his merchants to trade here. That should get that rotten knave to behave."

_"Yes, Sire.__"_

Merlin opened the door a bit gingerly, wondering what incurred this kind of attitude from the King. The man was wearing more casual attire than his court regalia, though a crown remained on his head. Several scribes were jotting down what he said, and a few brushed past Merlin to begin writing the documents. It had taken a while for Merlin to realize that Kings did not write their own documents, but rather approved them after others wrote down a draft for them. She supposed if anyone would use power and authority to skive off paperwork, it would be kings.

Even as she mused this, His Majesty caught sight of her.

"Healer Emrys," He exclaimed, a little surprised but not unwelcoming, and his expression smoothed from an irritated expression into one that almost seemed delighted, though just as quickly it morphed into one of concern. "Is everything alright?"

She was speechless for a moment at the attention. "Um…" She glanced at the others in the office, unsure how to proceed. Once upon a time, she had been far more comfortable with Arthur, but she never was quite as comfortable with Uther, and right now the King…she supposed she was just not very comfortable with kings.

"Give us a moment," The King waved his hand at the other men, who bowed and withdrew with a polite acknowledgment at Merlin as they went past. "Is everything alright?" King Arthur asked again, gesturing for her to enter more fully into the room.

"I don't know." Merlin stared a bit despondently at him, feeling like a child. Since when was Arthur so mature? He was every inch the leader Merlin once predicted he would be, but to see him in the flesh, in his own element rather than in her clinic pretending to observe, was a bit striking.

"Come here," He gestured to a chair, "Sit down. Today is your day off, is it not?"

"Well," Merlin sat down slowly, and the King pulled up a chair to sit across from her, "Yes." She was a bit surprised that he knew that. This did not seem to be the sort of thing he would keep track of.

"You were out in the fair?"

"Yes."

"Did someone frighten you?" He asked gently.

Was she _frightened?_ Merlin bit her lip. She was Healer Emrys. She could scare Gwaine with her powers, was she _scared _of Hunter?

The King's expression changed slightly, though Merlin could not say how. "Who was it? Do you know what he looked like?" He did not seem at all incredulous that someone like Emrys might be afraid of a person she met in the fair.

"It's complicated," She sighed, "I didn't want to get into this, I'm here to be a physician, I-I-I—I don't want to suddenly start doing what I was doing before, and-and—" _Why can't I talk properly? What's gotten into me?_

"Easy," The King reached forward and took her hand, "Take your time. Start from the beginning."

So she did.

When she finished, he was silent for a while, his thumb rubbing in slow circles over the back of her hand.

"I'm not sure I understand exactly what this Crestathion wants from you," He said quietly.

"I don't either." Merlin suddenly felt inept. "It's been a while since I've had to deal with such things."

"I know." He looked at her. "It feels like your life is in danger too, or at least he has designs on it, should you not cooperate. If this Crestathion is as powerful as you say, it might do well for Camelot if we know his intentions better. Are you willing to at least see what he wants, specifically, if I go with you?"

He did not actually want to go, Merlin could tell, but she needed to tell him that she knew this. "You should not go. If he has designs on Camelot, who better to commit foulplay on than the King of it?"

"True," He agreed readily, "An escort, then. I can send Lancelot and Gwaine, they are the two finest knights. You can also take care of yourself, I'm sure," He smiled a little at this, "And some of the druids, I think, would not mind accompanying you. Getting information is always necessary, if there is a battle to be won."

Merlin frowned. "No. Knights of Camelot with me? What would that look like? I've said again and again that I am just a healer, I will not partake in any of these…_politics._ Going with knights would undermine everything I had said. No, I go alone. I can take care of myself, as you said. I've gone alone plenty of times before."

"You intend to go into _his _territory all by yourself? You may be powerful, but you're not invincible, you know. Need I remind you what happened with Morgana?"

She scowled, but he was still holding her hand and he did not allow her to pull away.

"You cannot just waltz into his territory, where he is surrounded by his allies, all by yourself, and expect to leave without acquiescing to his demands. If the druids have ever taught me this, it's that promises in the magical world are not to be made lightly, or broken."

_He's right._ This time when Merlin pulled at her hand, the King let her go. She stood, feeling frustrated and lost.

"I didn't agree to any of this."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"You knew this might happen," She accused. Being a King for so long, it was not possible for Arthur to not anticipate something like this.

He did not bother denying it. "It was not my priority, at the time, but yes." He frowned a little. "Perhaps you should reconsider your position of neutrality. In theory, you make no enemies, but in reality and in practice, you become everyone's enemy. That is not a good position to be in. Find one friend to ally with, and you have less enemies to contend with."

"Are you saying that if I don't align with Camelot, that Camelot will be my enemy?" She demanded.

"No," Said the King, "But there are protections Camelot can offer you if you allow us to help. We are not a weak force either, as your Crestathion must know. We have allies as well, and siding with us will shelter you from many potential threats."

She knew Arthur was likely manipulating her for his own purposes, but she could not ignore the accuracy of his claims. Still, the freedom she originally had, of forging her own identity, independent from anyone else's, was not something she wanted to give up.

"I need to think about this," She told him, daring him to challenge her.

The King had gotten too wise for that, however. He merely nodded. "Of course," He said quietly.

_He's likely to send his own spies,_ Merlin thought. Just in case she decided not to follow along. The thought was comforting, actually, because it took some responsibility and accountability from her shoulders.

She stared at him for a moment, their gazes both steady, before she turned around and fled the office.

* * *

><p>"Eight-year-old female, presenting with fatigue, hyperventilation, nausea and stomach pain, dry skin and mouth, breath has a fruity odor. Patient endured a severe flu within the last fortnight and appears underweight. Diagnosis: likely honey siphon disease causing high acid in the blood, due to breath odor. Treating with liquids immediately to lower acid levels in the blood. Switching patient to diet with minimal sugar or sugar derivatives. End record." Merlin rubbed her head and nodded at Caius. "Go give the patient some liquids and keep her comfortable. See if she can't keep the liquids down, make sure it's warm so it won't shock her system."<p>

"Yes, Healer." Caius blinked at her. "Honey siphon disease…there's no cure, is there?"

Merlin shook her head. There was no cure, even with magic. "She'll have to live on a low-sugar diet for however long she lives." The prognosis was grim. "The acidosis is the main concern at the moment. We'll…worry about the rest later."

She hated when people came in and she could not really help. Even with all her magic, there were certain things she could not accomplish, such as regulating a person's blood for them. Children with this disease rarely lived long. She steeled herself to prepare to give this news to the girl's parents.

There were days when it seemed bad news just kept coming and coming and coming. There was one child she saw earlier that day, a baby, who had very pale coloring and a bizarre musty odor. Merlin knew it had something to do with her metabolism, but there was nothing she could do to fix it. The child was a year old already, with a severely delayed mental development and was incredibly weak and underweight. It was a miracle it had survived this long, but Merlin knew the child would not survive past the end of the month. Then there was another case, a young man who had fallen and hit his head two days prior. He had been dead when his family brought him in; apparently he looked and acted fine after the fall, but suddenly dropped in the middle of the morning, expired. Merlin's magic could not bring back the dead, and so there was nothing she could do for him. Another man had died on her operating table; he had a strangulated hernia, one of those hernias that required immediate attention because it could kill him, but he went into a lethal shock during surgery since there had been no time to prepare him properly, and had died within minutes of her making the first incision. Very likely, he was meant to die anyway, but it still felt awful to have him die while under her blade.

Merlin's first thought had been whether it was a curse, from Crestathion, but if it had been, she would not have seen such a huge variety of cases. Curses tend to manifest as plagues, with everyone having the same symptoms and coming for the same reasons. This just appeared to be a bad day with bad news all around. Merlin had been through enough of those before, but part of her almost wished it _had _been Crestathion.

The day dragged on in a dismal vein, to the point where Merlin was almost afraid of who would come in next. When the doors did open again, she was actually caught off-guard by the sight of a healthy, tall, unfamiliar man in robes, followed by a woman who looked like him, also looking healthy and unhurt, though she looked like she could use a little more iron in her diet. They both looked a little bit odd, golden skin and Moorish features.

"Healer Emrys?" The man called, at first glancing straight over her. He spoke with an accent that Merlin had never heard before. One of the druid assistants went up to them at first, and Merlin left them to it as she called out to the potions room for some vials.

The assistant soon came to her side.

"There's a brother and sister, sorcerers," He told her, "Paris and Selene. They wish to speak only with you."

"What do they want?"

"They did not say."

"Very well," Merlin moved out, hoping that these two were not from Crestathion. The brother looked down at her, looking faintly annoyed. "I am Healer Emrys. What can I do for you?"

Paris blinked with surprise, and he seemed to appraise her briefly before he answered, "My name is Paris, this is my sister Selene. We come from Culacia. There was a great plague that swept our nation, we heard of you and were wondering if you might find it in yourself to come with us."

Merlin frowned. "I heard of no such plague. When did it start?"

"About three months ago," Selene replied, "My brother and I, along with the other healers in Culacia, tried to find a cure, but it remains beyond us. When we left, the Queen had taken ill as well."

"When did you leave?"

"Twelve days ago."

Merlin calculated in her head. Twelve days journey, by the time they returned, it would have been three weeks since the Queen had taken ill, assuming she was even real. Merlin had never heard of this Culacia, and she had no way of knowing, beyond what these two were telling her, that there was any plague.

"You say you are healers," She said, "Can you describe the symptoms to me?"

"The first symptom resembles a cold," Said Paris, "Followed by rashes along specific dermatomes, different in every patient but always localized somehow."

"Shingles?"

"Similar, though the rashes are not painful or itchy. They are always followed by replacement of the tissue within the rash with bony and cartilaginous tissue within four days. This then continues to replace other parts of the body until it reaches the vital organs."

Merlin's eyebrows raised. "I've never heard of such a thing. You say this is a plague? It is contagious, then? Have you determined how it spreads?"

"We are not sure. We are treating it as an airborne contagion." Selene lowered her head. "Some of the healers have fallen to the illness as well."

"And the mortality rate?"

"So far, no survivors. We tried removing the bony tissue surgically, but it only seems to make it worse. The longest lasting was eight days. It spread very quickly, our clinics were soon overwhelmed." Selene looked at her imploringly. "Please, you must help us. You took an oath as a healer, just like us. Our people need your help."

The crisis sounded magical in nature, if there was a crisis at all. Merlin knew she had to confirm their credibility before agreeing to anything.

"Wait here," She ordered, "I will be with you in a moment."

* * *

><p>"They just came by your clinic?" The King was very displeased."A crisis of this nature, and they didn't think to see Camelot's King before bursting into your clinic?"<p>

"This is no time to go nursing your ego, Arthur," Merlin said dryly, unimpressed.

"This isn't about ego," He glared a little at her, "You never did understand the purpose of customs and protocols, I suppose, but one does not enter another country and demand its resources without going through the proper process."

"I'm not _Camelot's _resource," Merlin scowled, "And this sounds like enough of an emergency that bypassing a process is allowed."

"Yes, and sounds fantastical enough that you needed to come to me to confirm that this _Culacia _even exists, let alone that there's a plague inflicting their people. These processes exist for a reason."

_He has a point there. _"Well, is there a Culacia?" Being a healer's apprentice, and a sorceress besides, meant that there were parts of her education that were considerably lacking.

"There is," Arthur glowered a little, "It is remote, sequestered in the mountains. We know only that it exists, not of its people. Send the siblings to me and I will deal with them."

"They came for _me_."

"Yes, but they are in Camelot's territory, and I have the authority to order this."

Merlin fumed silently as he called for a servant to retrieve the healers.

"Look, I don't answer to you, Arthur,"

"No, but as long as these people are in my land, I have the obligation to ensure they are not a threat to my people."

"They're in my _clinic._ The wards wouldn't let any harm befall anyone in there."

"And that's fine. I trust that. What I don't like is how we have absolutely no proof that there is a plague, let alone that it has the characteristics of what they're describing. You were already targeted by Crestathion. What makes you think other sorcerers don't have the same idea?"

Merlin was silent at this.

"Besides," The King went on, "Even if you go, this thing apparently affects healers as well, which means you might not be immune. I told you, you weren't invincible."

"Arthur, that's besides the point, as a healer—"

"I know. Convenient, isn't it, to lure you to a site based on your healer ethics so that you can be murdered."

"Arthur, that's so convoluted—"

"I've seen worse. Do you want me to give you a list?" The King looked frighteningly grave now. "Do you want a list of things that were done against Camelot first, or the things that I've done to others?"

Merlin gaped at this.

"Someone like you," He went on, "It's all too easy to pull you from the safety of your clinic and into danger. I don't know how you managed to survive in Griton. Perhaps it's because you don't see as many people there."

Merlin scowled at this slight. "I may see more patients in Camelot, Arthur, but that does not mean—"

"What?"

She fell silent again.

"Go," Said Arthur, "I know you don't want to show any hint of being affiliated with me, or this kingdom. I'll handle those two and assess whether their claims are worth believing. Go back to your clinic."

Feeling a bit hurt, though not understanding why, Merlin nodded solemnly before turning around to leave.

"Merlin," Arthur called, making her turn around. He seemed to struggle to find words when she did look at him, though. As eloquent as he had become, Arthur was more a man of action than words. After a while, he settled with, "I'm glad you came to me with this, instead of going off by yourself. I won't betray that trust."

Understanding that the King meant that he would be as fair as possible when judging the Culacian crisis and would do nothing to harm Merlin's reputation, the young healer nodded gratefully.

It had been a long time since she felt taken care of, since there had been someone willing to look out for her without any strings attached. Despite all the problems that have started sprouting up since she moved here, and an overall _bad _day, this feeling of not being alone anymore was…nice.

Coming to Camelot might have been a good idea after all.


	8. Chapter Eight

Lady of Magic

Chapter Eight

Arthur did not see Merlin's visitors immediately because he was quickly wrapped up political issues.

"Scouts report that Beronat is doing construction on their walls."

"What is that man planning?" Arthur shook his head. Walls were deceptive, in that they appear to be for defensive purposes only, but they were actually more effective as weapons than shields; many adjacent kingdoms fell to those with strong walls because they get sandwiched in between an army and a wall. Beronat was far enough away from Camelot that Arthur was not immediately worried, but close enough that if anything went wrong, he would definitely become anxious soon enough.

"Plant the beginnings of a highway there," The King ordered, "I want men stationed even if they have to pretend to be working." Paving a path from Camelot toward Beronat would justify the presence of Camelot's men. He did not actually want a road all the way to Beronat—that would make it easier for Beronat to invade. No doubt Beronat's King would see through the ruse, but political propriety would prevent him from making such an accusation since he had no proof.

"It will be done, Sire. Also, Prince Elfkir of Casvil has departed again for Detmirck, Your Majesty."

Arthur scowled at this. "This is the third time in the past six months. Casvil is definitely courting Princess Lydeth, isn't he?"

"It seems like it," Said one of his advisors, Pollux. "So far he is the only one who has consistently gone to Detmirck."

_Detmirck is fairly close to Camelot, closer, at any rate, than Casvil…_When Arthur had been prince, he did not recall politics to be quite so…neurotic. Back then, he was primarily concerned with training himself and building up Camelot's military strength. It was not until he became King and Merlin left that he realized just how much his father had kept to himself. Now he found himself starting at any signs of intent for marriage, not only because there were many ladies throwing themselves at him, but because alliances between other kingdoms could threaten Camelot's welfare. Heirs being born significantly altered the dynamics between kingdoms, death and illness…all these personal matters suddenly meant much more than they ought.

"Casvil and Detmirck," He mused, "They are pretty far away from each other. Even if they do become aligned, it would be hard to orchestrate any offenses between the two of them as long as we prevent them from somehow annexing the territories in between…better those two than Detmirck and a closer neighbor."

"The territories in between are the ones most worried."

"As they should be," Arthur frowned, "But if we play our hand too early, this might discourage Casvil. I would much rather Casvil unite with Detmirck than one of those territories."

Pollux sighed, "If I might be frank, Your Majesty, Princess Lydeth is an only child, from reports she is a handsome lady. If Camelot chooses to ally with Detmirck, it could greatly benefit both kingdoms, and I see no reason for Detmirck to refuse."

"I am in no hurry to marry," Arthur said shortly.

"Yes Sire."

_Marry marry marry._ Everyone wanted him to marry. Strangely enough, the older Arthur became, the less inclined he felt to marry anyone. When he was Prince and deeply in love with Gwen, it had been passionate and warm regard that drew prince and servant to each other. Gwen's affection had been real and untarnished by expectation—it was all in the moment, and very pure. Over the years they drifted apart, still friends but both somewhat disillusioned—she by the life she would lead as a Queen, he by the fact that being King meant he needed a type of woman he had yet to meet. Neither of them particularly enjoyed looking into other people's personal lives to dissect political implications, or the idea that their own personal lives would warrant the same attention from others. Gwen found this all miserable, and Arthur…frankly needed more than Gwen, once he became King. Suddenly, the woman he married could not just love him—in fact, loving him was almost more of an accessory rather than a necessity. He needed an ally who could benefit his kingdom somehow, and Gwen just did not have the personality for it.

Still, as the years went by and he met ladies who had what Gwen did not—political acumen, worldliness…he found himself missing the things she did have. They came to him with other hopes now, hopes that a union with him could secure this and that for them and their kingdoms. He could not trust their attraction to him for what it looked like—everyone was going to pretend they were smitten of course, and maybe some of them were, by his title, by his prestige. They lacked the common touch, the wisdom of simple folk. Most of them were pretty full of themselves—they were the apples of their fathers' eyes and their fathers did not lack for wealth. Being as selfless and kind as Gwen was a rather tall order, he had to acknowledge—there was a reason he fell in love with Gwen, after all, but what could he say? Arthur's standards are high. If he was going to let Gwen go because she was did not fit the role, whoever did fit would have to surpass her somehow. He was working as hard as he could to be a good enough king for Camelot, he was certainly not going to settle any less with his queen.

"You keep pressing on this marriage issue," He glared at Pollux, "Don't you ignore the fact that whomever I choose, _you _will have to get use to. Really, my delay is only good for you. My mother died when I was born, you might not be familiar with what a queen could do to a kingdom."

"Yes, Sire," Pollux replied, though Arthur could tell he was not entirely convinced.

_Think whatever you like,_ The King resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

* * *

><p>Paris and Selene were an odd-looking pair, and visibly nervous about seeing Arthur, something that perplexed him. From past experience, he tended to have that effect on non-sorcerers, but most druids seemed to look at him with either hate or fond tolerance. He had never met someone who regarded him with fear before.<p>

_Except Merlin._

It was somewhat ironic that the most powerful sorcerer in Albion was the only one to be afraid of him up till now.

Arthur murmured quietly to one of his advisors to ask if Culacians ever showed up in Camelot before. Their appearances were rather striking, golden skin and dark features. When he was given a negative, he turned to the siblings and decided to use their anxiety to his advantage.

"It's not often Camelot receives visitors from Culacia," He stated in a tone that indicated he was not impressed, but not much else. The two sorcerers visibly tensed. "I'm surprised Culacia has decided to send sorcerers as their first liaisons, given Camelot's history with magic."

Paris swallowed, though Selene's eyes hardened. Brother and sister, Merlin had told him, and though the brother was the one who seemed the weaker of the lot, Arthur recognized what the gesture actually meant. _The brother must be older than the sister. _How often had Lancelot done the same thing when Gwen was in danger? Lancelot is the bravest knight Arthur had ever known. Except maybe Gwaine, but more often it was because he was too drunk to be afraid.

Silence reigned for a while, oppressive. The court members shifted on their feet, visibly discomfited. Arthur watched the two siblings calmly, letting the silence build for a while before dispelling it.

"What are you here for?" He demanded quietly, but with enough authority that the sister spoke instantly.

"We came to seek Healer Emrys. We mean no harm to Camelot."

"I see. What do you need her for?"

"Our people are dying," Selene glared at him, "Camelot's king is known throughout Albion as just and kind. Surely it's reasonable for us to approach the best healer in Albion to save hundreds of lives?"

"Healer Emrys is good at what she does," Said Arthur, "But unfortunately, illness and plague are not the only evils between Heaven and Earth, nor does Camelot represent only those within. Did you know that since she came to this kingdom, there have already been threats to Emrys's life?"

Shock on both faces, as well as some members of his court, though interestingly enough, excluding the druids. _Hm._ Arthur was mainly focused on the siblings. That they were so surprised by this meant that for some reason they did not believe anyone _would _threaten Emrys…

Still, one last hand, just to make sure. "It is fortunate for her that I caught wind of you two before she followed her healer instincts and rode off with you two. I will send representatives from Camelot to Culacia to appraise the situation. Once we have determined that there is a real plague, certainly, the healer is free to go if she chooses—"

"There's no _time!_" The sister snarled.

"Selene!" Paris exclaimed, but his sibling ignored him.

"Every second we waste here costs another life! It's why we went to her first!"

"Selene," Paris stepped forward, "Your Majesty, I beseech you—if there is anything we can do to prove—we would, but our people are dying even as we speak."

"You have seen this for yourselves?"

"Yes!" The sister spat, "You think we would come out all the way out here for the best healer in Albion if this were just a fairy-tale?"

_Fair enough._ Arthur believed them. They were clearly not good at acting, based on how they slipped multiple times before. As King, Arthur had become quite good at reading people. This meant he should move on to other matters.

"Healer Emrys has set up a clinic here and Camelot has devoted resources to support it. I need assurances that she will return to it once the plague is resolved."

Once again, the sister was the more impulsive of the two. "We can't do that. We weren't even sure we were going to make it here."

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "You are saying you might have brought the plague with you? To my kingdom."

The two siblings blanched again.

The rest of the court grew nervous, and Arthur momentarily wondered if he should have said that out loud. If the plague did enter Camelot, Merlin will just stay, or he will convince her somehow, so Arthur was not entirely troubled by this. The rest of the court, however, did not know what he had in mind.

He doubted they were sick, though. From Merlin's descriptions, they should have acquired some symptoms by now, even ambiguous ones.

"You do not know how this illness is passed around."

"No."

"Healer Emrys is no god. You're telling me you mean to place her in danger?"

"That is the sacrifice of healers," Said Paris, "We all place ourselves in danger when we treat the sick. Healer Emrys would understand."

_Would she?_ Merlin's blue eyes loomed in Arthur's mind, defiant and bright. Was she prepared to suffer the agony these victims suffered?

"I suppose then," He said quietly, "It is up to her."

* * *

><p>One of the most striking things about Merlin now that she is a healer and not just a healer's apprentice is how sharp and almost harsh she was. All her decisions were final and confident, all her questions quick and very focused, and when she really started musing over a situation or dilemma, it was almost like watching a precise swordsman without clunky armor on—nimble, agile, articulate, and effective. She did not look delicate either, certainly not ladylike—there was a pointy feel to her features, all sharp angles and intensity. Even her coloring was sharp—sharply white skin, sharply black hair, eyes that were so blue they almost hurt to look at. Ultimately, Arthur had to concede, there was a good reason he and the rest of Camelot had believed her to be male all those years ago. Ironically, despite clad in woman's dress and with longer hair, Merlin was almost more manly than before. She had authority now, a presence that demanded obedience and respect.<p>

Provided, of course, that she was in her own element.

"Eighteen spells," She said to Gwaine, who stood next to Roskin as the druids helped her pack, "Eighteen spells in total. That way if I lose the sheet of vellum I can probably figure out which spells to use. You got it? This illness can be spread through anything—food, water, air, skin contact," She paused, "Intimate contact. I'll have to inquire how many children are getting it."

"How exactly will you protect against air?" Gwaine asked.

"Magic," Merlin replied dryly. She looked at the siblings. "Until I actually see a patient, I won't be able to predict how it is spread. Could be a water source. Could be because some idiot killed a unicorn and placed a curse on his kingdom."

_Mean,_ Arthur scowled, though his heart was not in it. He was too busy trying to hide how crestfallen he felt.

Of _course _Merlin was going to go without hesitation. He did not actually realize the reality of the situation until he saw her looking up prophylactic spells. Merlin was going off on her own, essentially, fulfilling her own life's purpose that was entirely separate from Arthur's. Gwaine and Roskin were not even allowed to wear their normal armor or carry their shields because that would show them to be affiliated with Camelot, and neither Camelot nor Arthur could afford her any protection once she leaves the kingdom's borders.

Ultimately what was a bit disappointing about Merlin's return was not so much that she refused to be Arthur's manservant—honestly, after five years of distance and what was essentially a gender switch, Arthur did not _want _her to be his servant; it was far too awkward. However, as a manservant, Merlin had always been beside him, with him, and her fate had been linked with his. She was a shadow, always reliably there, and Arthur had naïvely assumed that he will always have his friend to fall back on, that he would somehow be relevant to any of Merlin's affairs because he was Merlin's master. Now that she is Healer Emrys, a figure of authority in her own right and with no attachments or affiliations except to herself, there is a distinct sense that she is not _his_, that the life she chose to live only paralleled his by happenstance. She had her own set of duties that had nothing to do with Camelot or Arthur, could run off to address a crisis completely unrelated to either of them, and if she fell to the plague in Culacia she would die miles away from him and that was that, no obligations, no apologies, no regrets.

_She has eighteen protective measures. She is the most powerful sorceress in all of Albion. Even if she gets sick she can probably cure herself because she is the best healer in the land._ Not that Merlin did much self-healing when she was bleeding to death from the wound Morgana gave her, and that thought made Arthur's stomach plummet all over again.

The group moved out toward the stables where the horses were already bridled and saddled. Merlin swung onto a dappled grey and adjusted her cloak around herself. Her gaze had that distant look Arthur associated with thinkers who were obsessively musing over a problem. Obviously, the healer was running through scenarios in her head, and trying to deduce what the illness might actually be. Merlin might keep saying that until she sees a patient, there is not much she could do, but she clearly is the type to obsess over the issue beforehand anyway.

"Your Majesty," Said Paris, and Selene echoed him.

"Sire," Gwaine and Roskin saluted.

"Guard her well," Arthur said to the men, keeping his voice casual so Merlin and her two visitors would not notice the intensity of the request.

Bless Gwaine, but the chap did have the knack for seeing under the surface from time to time.

"Don't worry, Sire," Gwaine said seriously, before chuckling cheerfully, "We'll bring the lass back in one piece. She'll be back to scolding people for getting hurt before you know it."

Merlin was oblivious to this interplay. "Let's go," She announced, and kicked at her horse's flanks. The company set off, five travelers in total, two of whom had swords and three of whom had magic.

Arthur watched them leave, feeling a little despondent. The one time he had seen Merlin off had been when Merlin left for Ealdor with Gwen and Morgana, and Arthur had intended to follow. The last time she went away, he had not even seen her leave, and she had vanished from his world for five years. Now, he was sending her off to do things he had no business participating in, and she was leaving him behind without a backward glance.

She disappeared from view within moments, and after a moment, the King walked back into the castle.


	9. Chapter Nine

Lady of Magic

Chapter Nine

_Stone Man Syndrome?_ Merlin wondered. _But that one is not contagious, nor does it manifest the way Culacians are. Something metabolic?_

"So what is Culacia like?" Gwaine was asking Selene, not wasting any time utilizing his charm. Selene, however, seemed discomfited by his approach.

"You will see for yourself, Sir Knight."

"Aw, but the suspense is so agonizing. Surely you can give me _some _hint? Are all women of Culacia as beautiful as you?"

_Plus, Stone Man Syndrome is much much slower,_ Merlin was still musing.

"You will see for yourself," Selene said again, "And not soon enough." She edged closer to her brother unconsciously. Paris was glaring at Gwaine, though he did not dare say anything.

"Leave her alone, Sir Gwaine," Merlin called out, "Culacia likely has different traditions. You cannot assume the women from Culacia even like your type."

"Only because they have never met my type," Gwaine puffed out his chest.

"Dream on," Merlin whacked him on the arm, "Why don't you wait until we reach Culacia and you can see what other options you have before you harass the poor girl."

"We were just talking! Goodness, Merlin, do assure me you have not lost your sense of humor!"

"Oh, you want me to have a sense of humor, do you?" Merlin suddenly found herself smirking. "Pranks are funny. You like pranks?" She pointed with her finger at Gwaine's hair.

"Oi. _Oi!_ What are you doing? No fair! You are not supposed to use magic! That is not fair!"

Merlin was not actually doing anything to Gwaine's hair; she was just making the hair roots tingle so that Gwaine would freak out. Selene's lips twitched and Paris had to look away to hide their amusement.

"Gah! Roskin, stop her!"

"No way, mate," Roskin pulled his horse aside, laughing, "I am not going to cross Healer Emrys."

"Now this is unfair! I do not have magic!"

"Well I do not have muscles." Fleeting anger flashed through her mind. "You might consider that people like me tend to be at a disadvantage against people like you."

Gwaine was oblivious, still wiping at his hair. "What are you doing to it? Come on, stop, look, I'll behave, promise."

Taking pity on him, Merlin stopped. "I was just keeping you on your toes," She said lightly. As Gwaine continued to brush at his hair, the sorceress mused that even though Gwaine was a shameless flirt, he had never actually hurt any of the girls he had flirted with. He was an immature, but good man, unlike some of the men her patients had the misfortune of encountering. She should not take it out on him.

Her anger cooled, and feeling a little apologetic, Merlin pulled her mount close and bumped shoulders with him. "Relax. Your hair is fine. In fact, if you ever get male-patterned baldness, I will make sure it never rears its head. Deal?"

"Male-patterned baldness? Pfft," Gwaine grinned at her, indicating that they were alright. "As if I would ever develop male-patterned baldness!"

He would not; Merlin was rather certain of this, but she was in the mood to torment him a little once more. "Hm," She murmured, pretending to scrutinize him, and then left it at that.

She practically heard Gwaine gulp. Roskin chuckled, obviously realizing what she was doing.

"Gwaine does have a point though," Merlin pulled close to Selene, "What is Culacia like?"

Selene hesitated. "It is beautiful. It is home. Camelot is different from most kingdoms, but even Camelot tends to be a bit...grey." She looked apologetically at Merlin. "Culacia is golden, like the sun. We all call ourselves, Children of the Sun."

Merlin nodded, thinking about her thick accent. Selene and Paris both spoke with proper diction and syntax, but their pronunciations were occasionally very hard to understand, which made her think of something. "Do all Culacians know how to speak..." She paused, "Will we be able to understand each other there?"

"We can translate," Said Paris, "Most Culacians only speak Culacian. The educated can speak other languages, but they are not the only ones falling ill."

"I see." This was acceptable. "Does your King know that I am coming?"

There was an awkward silence.

"We have no King," Said Paris, "We have a Queen. Queen Aldrea."

"Does Her Majesty know I am coming, then?"

"She was the one who sent us," Selene replied.

"Very good." Merlin nodded. "I take it that sorcery is well-accepted there."

"Most Culacians are sorcerers," Selene replied, eyeing the knights warily. "About half of the population has some form of magic."

Merlin's eyes widened. "How does the other half deal with it?"

The siblings shrugged. "Every family has some with magic and some without. We get along, if that is what you mean. There is no shame in not having magic; there are other things to life. It is no great honor to have magic either; we end up getting more work to do."

"I am sure," Merlin nodded slowly, intrigued.

"I am surprised the non-magical folk are not jealous somehow," Gwaine remarked.

"We do have issues with that," Paris replied, "But everyone has a place in Culacia, and a duty."

"Are the non-magical folk delegated to labor tasks, then?" Merlin asked.

"Not necessarily. Sorcerers are often recruited to do the heavy-lifting anyway. Many become scholars and offer insights that sorcerers would not perceive on our own."

"Interesting," Merlin nodded again, "I look forward to seeing this place. It sounds very different from the rest of Albion."

* * *

><p>The road to Culacia was smooth, smoother than many of Arthur's hunts. They encountered a pack of wolves who were easily scared away, and passed by what Selene claimed was a troll's cave, but they were never attacked and the journey went faster for it.<p>

Selene and Merlin began bonding as the days progressed. Merlin found it refreshing to talk to a fellow sorceress who was not insane, as it were. The Culacian woman was sensible, if a bit impulsive, and once she felt she had garnered adequate respect, her temper cooled and she ended up having quite a bit of patience to spare. The two of then often rode side-by-side and traded stories; Merlin told Selene about the time a malingerer came to her clinic complaining of loss of vision.

"So I knew there was definitely nothing wrong with his eyes, because his pupils contracted when I shone light into them, so I did a confrontation test, 'can you see how many fingers? No? No? Can you see this? See this?' Then I _bit my thumb_, and he flinched," Merlin demonstrated, while Selene broke into peals of laughter, "And I said, 'Oh, so you saw _that _eh? Good day to you.'"

"I _cannot _believe you bit your thumb at him, Merlin," Gwaine exclaimed.

"That is _brilliant!_" Selene was still laughing, "I am using that trick next time!"

"Isn't that improper? For a healer to bite his thumb at a patient?" Gwaine was still incredulous.

"_Very _improper." Paris's shoulders were shaking in mirth. "But that is what makes that work."

"I had a malingerer once," Selene chuckled, "Said he could not move the entire right side of his body. I did a history and strength tests, did reflex tests and they were normal, and then I asked him to turn his face against my hand."

"He turned left but not right?" Merlin guessed.

"Sometimes it is good when patients are not educated. So I told him I could help him, but I would have to stick a thousand iron needles on the right side of his body. He recovered _very quickly _after that."

Merlin reached out and grabbed Selene in a wrist-clasp and the two grinned.

"Why would people _fake _illness?" Roskin poked Gwaine, "Normally I try my best to stay _away _from clinics."

"Depends on the person," Merlin focused back on the road, "Sometimes they want a free bed to sleep in at night. Sometimes they want an excuse to get off work. Sometimes they want attention, the care and comfort people give to those who are actually sick. Sometimes they are just mad."

"Sometimes they are not actually faking," Said Paris, "Or at least, they really believe they have a problem. How do _you _treat such cases, Healer Emrys?"

"I give them a modified sleeping potion."

"A _sleeping _potion?"

"Sleep is the best way to heal a mind," Merlin pointed out, "It is the best way a mind rests and recuperates. If the problem lies within the mind itself, the way to help is through sleep as well. Of course, normal sleep is not usually enough, so I add a few, uh, extracts to the mix."

"Unicorn urine?"

Roskin started coughing.

"I actually give those to folks with gastritis." Gwaine started coughing too. "Actually, griffin saliva is good when you mix it with moonflower nectar and sleeping potion. You have to boil it first, though; it is usually quite dirty when it first leaves the mouth."

"_How _do you even get bloody griffin saliva?" Roskin's voice was high.

"Oh you cast a sleeping spell on a griffin," Selene smirked at him, "They tend to drool by themselves when they sleep, but if they aren't, give them the scent of blood and squeeze their glands, that usually does it."

"I never did it personally," Merlin added, "But I heard their breath smells _horrible_."

"No question about it, my friend Orphus had to collect some once. He said the smell stays in your nose for hours."

"Ugh," The three sorcerers grimaced at this.

"I would personally prefer the unicorn urine," Merlin muttered.

The by-plays sufficiently distracted Merlin from thinking about Culacia's current problem, at least until nighttime. She would stare at the stars for hours, thinking, thinking, because there were exceptions to every rule and things change and diseases change but _none of this made any sense._ She thought of Uncle Gaius and his laboratory, bubbling solutions and flipped open books while yelling at her to _be careful _and wished he were still here to give her advice. Intellectually, Merlin knew that she could probably cure more illnesses with brute force alone; sometimes she could just _will _a disease to go away, but Gaius remained on that high pedestal of the greatest healer she had ever known, and she worried that Culacia sought the wrong healer for the job.

_Look in the books, it is somewhere in the books._ Certainly, Gaius did not know how to solve everything, and had to refer to the books from time to time, but it was not until Merlin started looking at them herself that she realized how creative Gaius had to be. He had to know what he was looking for, and he had to know how to compensate if there was nothing to find. All things that required years of experience to master, and Merlin had only been a healer for five years.

"You alright?" Gwaine whispered to her one night, when the campfire had gone low and everyone else was asleep.

"Why are you still awake?" She hissed back.

"I can hear you agonizing over this."

"I didn't make a sound."

"You didn't have to."

Merlin sighed. Gwaine rolled over; he was lying above her, but had rotated his body so that they were head to head.

"Didn't think you'd be this nervous. Isn't this what healers do from time to time?"

"Well, yes, but you of all people should know that they don't always have a happy ending."

Gwaine paused. "You're going to save them, Merlin."

Merlin sighed again. She did not know how to express just how useless such platitudes were when they came from someone who knew nothing about the situation. "I miss Gaius," She said at last. "I keep wondering what he would do. What he would say. Should have paid more attention to him when he was still here. Every time something like this happened, I just trusted him and focused on my own tasks. I use to think that I had enough on my plate as it was, making sure Arthur did not get himself killed while keeping my magic and..._me_, secret. I was not even really interested in what Gaius was doing when emergencies arose. Figured, looking things up could not be that hard. Tedious, but not hard. Now I wonder how many times I should have stayed and _helped _him. Would have learned a lot more...would have spent more time with him."

"You spent a lot of time with Gaius, as I recall. And you were his apprentice. If he thought you were supposed to do more, he would have sat you down and forced you to."

"I kept begging off work," The stars were starting to blur, "He was my uncle, you know. I sort of treated him that way too. Like a surrogate father, of sorts. I knew he would love me as his niece even if I were a lazy brat. If he had been a stranger, I would have been a much more attentive student, but he was my uncle and he let me get away with things he would not have."

"You worked _hard_ Merlin. You were posing as a _boy_. You were doing all the _boy _stuff that girls would not even try, and you had to pretend that you had the muscle and the bones for it. If Gaius worked you any harder than he did you probably would have died from exhaustion."

"I had magic."

"That you couldn't use most of the time. And you're now the best healer in Albion."

"I'm the most _famous_. Not like I actually had a chance to compare myself with anyone else."

It was Gwaine's turn to sigh. "Merlin, no one is perfect, and nothing short of perfection will satisfy you. Some Culacians are probably going to die. Some might die on your watch. It happens with other healers too. Even Gaius lost patients."

"I know. I'm just scared that I won't be able to help at all. I have no idea what this is."

"We're not even there yet. How about we leave the worrying for when we get there, hm?"

Merlin sighed and rolled over, curling up.

"I cannot believe you bit your thumb at a patient."

A grin split Merlin's face and she curled up even tighter to suppress her giggles.

* * *

><p>Culacia was, indeed, a land of gold. The trees were still leafy, but interspersed with golden blossoms. It rested on a plateau on which there were clusters of farmland that cleared the forest. Much of the crops were withered and unwatered, as inhabitants flocked to the city for the clinics, but it was clear that this was once a prosperous kingdom, however isolated it had since become.<p>

Selene and Paris led the way now, urging their mounts to go faster. Gwaine and Roskin kept behind Merlin, who was stretching her senses out to her surroundings. The air had magic in it, though not thick, and for all the sickness taking over the people of Culacia, the rest of the environment was quite healthy.

_No one killed unicorns here, obviously._

The city had tall walls, but the main gate was left open. There were no guards in front, but Selene and Paris seemed to expect this. As they approached, Merlin saw something shimmer, and realized there was a magical barrier in place of normal doors.

The siblings drew to a halt in front.

"_Alemang iso," _Selene called out.

The barrier shimmered again, and Paris turned around on his horse to wave at them to cross quickly. Merlin kicked at her horse's flanks and they trotted through. The barrier shimmered behind them, and she sensed something seal in place.

The city was empty, and the _clip-clop_ of horse hooves echoed eerily in the barren streets. Shops were closed and dark, ravens flocked the roofs and sidewalks. The place was like a ghost city.

_Are we too late?_ Merlin caught up with the siblings, who had kicked to a canter. Gwaine and Roskin looked about uneasily. They turned along the streets and came upon an incline. A dog started barking as soon as it saw them coming.

"That is the main hall," Paris pointed after they climbed for a while, and Merlin beheld a great marble building with arched gates, situated behind other houses. "All the sick have gone there."

After riding a little longer, the buildings in front parted and Merlin saw that the main hall was surrounded by tents. Flashes of magic twinkled, and there was a low murmur of people talking, groaning, children wailing. The feeling of illness was strong, and the healer pulled her horse to a stop. She instantly began casting prophylactic spells over herself. Paris and Selene halted when they saw this and began casting their own as well.

_Airborne, contact, aura, visual..._"Gwaine, how many spells was I supposed to cast again?"

"Uh...eighteen."

_Six, seven, eighteen. _Merlin cast the same spells over Gwaine and Roskin, the latter knight blinking as the lights flashed around him. Merlin then kicked her horse into a run, rushing past Paris and Selene.

_Magic, but does not feel like a curse. _Merlin ran through the possibilities in her head. Heads rose as she approached, and she swung off her horse before it came to a full stop. _Seems more like a magical toxin, contaminant? Crops? Infestation?_

Paris and Selene pulled up next to her and both dismounted.

"This way, Healer Emrys, the Queen would want to see you."

"You," Merlin ordered Paris, falling into healer mode instantly without even remembering that she was a guest in another country, "Go tell the Queen I am here, but I'll see her later. Roskin, go with him. Selene, take me to whoever is in charge here. I want to know the most recent updates. Who is running this place?"

Paris and Roskin had already withdrawn. Gwaine was standing by her side, looking around him in dismay. Though there were tents, most of the patients were lying on old blankets on the ground, several family members tending to them with miserable expressions on their faces. It seemed like the whole kingdom was here, and nearly three-quarters of them were sick and dying. There was persistent coughing all around, sneezing and groaning and delirious wails. Several healers passed by, hardly giving the newcomers a single glance. It was easy to see that the people of Culacia had the same gold-toned skin as Paris and Selene, but many of them were so sickly that the color had gone grey, and some looked like there were pieces of bone precipitating on their faces.

"Healer Phaedrus," Selene replied, "He should be inside the building, I do not see him here. Cassia, is Phaedrus inside?"

The girl she stopped nodded before walking briskly past. "Last I saw he went to the herb stands."

"Come," Selene beckoned.

Healer Phaedrus was a man who looked almost as old as Gaius right before he died. He was taller than Gaius, with a balding head and a thick beard as white as snow. He wore beige robes lined with white and brown, and on his belt hung several large pouches. He was not plump, but he was broad and looked like he could swing a sword if he had to. When they found him, he was pouring a vial of solution and holding it to the light to check its colour.

"Phaedrus," Selene called to him.

He jerked his head around. "Selene!" His eyes traveled to Merlin and he paused. "You must be Healer Emrys." He spoke with the same exotic accent as Selene and Paris.

Merlin was shrugging off her cloak. "What's the situation?"

"Selene gave you a run-down beforehand?" His eyes went to regard Gwaine for a moment.

"Yes, but I want to know if there's anything new you've learned."

"Only what doesn't work."

"Tell," Merlin ordered.

"Surgery continues to prove to be fruitless. Cutting off healthy tissue only makes that tissue grow back as cartilage and bone. Children suffer worse than adults, the greater the age the slower the growth, but the disease kills earliest in the elderly. We tried using controlled toxin, mix of spider and viper venom, those seem to slow down the progression but coupled with the side effects, it does not seem to be acceptably effective."

"Have you determined how it spreads?"

"Airborne. Everyone was put on airborne protection spells."

"Anything else slow down the progression?"

"Nothing so far. Heat, cold, fasting, cold medicine, infection medicines, poultices, none of them work."

"Spells?"

"Stasis spells only freeze the person, not the path of growth. Cartilage continues to form even in stasis, in real time."

Merlin swore. If the illness could cut through stasis spells, that meant brute-force strength on her part might not work.

"It is some form of magic," Phaedrus went on, "There is no doubt of that at this point."

"You have a list of known petrifying spells and illnesses?"

"None of them fit, but you are welcome to look. All spells are far more immediate, and don't initiate with cold symptoms."

"I'd like a list of colds, spinal cord irritations, petrifying disorders, and all their variants, if you have them."

"Done."

"Good. I am going to take a look at a patient and see how this illness responds to _me_. Is anyone here still in the early stages of the disease?"

"There are several outside. The ones who are coughing and do not have the rash are still in stage one."

"I want to go take a look. I'll be back, should be when the books are ready."

"Very good, Healer Emrys." Phaedrus turned away to shout orders to his assistants.

"Sir Gwaine, come with me." Merlin headed out of the building without even checking to see if he followed. Selene led the way, and they followed the sound of someone coughing and found a huddled man in his thirties, his wife handing him a mug of water. There were four young children surrounding them. One was curled up next to her father, very still and pale. They looked up when the three of them approached.

Selene said something to them in Culacian. The wife, looking worried, murmured something back.

"I told them who you were. She said you can take a look," Selene told Merlin.

"When did the symptoms begin?" Merlin asked.

After an exchange in Culacian, Selene replied, "Three days ago."

"Any rash?"

"Not that they know."

Merlin reached out with the back of her hand to feel the man's forehead, and also felt the child's. The girl was cold. She looked down, touched the child's cheek, and was startled to realize it was hard. Her face showed no bony plates, but bone had formed on the inside, sealing her jaws shut.

The mother said something with a wavering voice.

"She said that Aria fell sick two weeks ago. Same symptoms as her father. She was still awake yesterday, but hasn't woken at all today."

"She's breathing," Merlin noted, and pressed a hand against the stiff neck. "Pulse is very shallow." She opened the collar of the girl's shirt. There was a thick rash along the girl's torso, a neat line that ended right in the middle of her chest. It was very angry and red. She had a hard time imagining it was not painful or itchy.

"She said the healers tried using spells but Aria did not improve."

_This is good._ Old disease and new disease side-by-side. The father had a little more time, so Merlin focused on the daughter. She picked up the girl's wrist, wincing when she realized the elbows had completely locked, as was the shoulder. The girl did not wake, but she rolled the child so that she would not be in pain.

"Does she have magic?" Merlin asked.

"Yes," Came the answer after an exchange.

"Do all patients have magic?"

"No."

"They all have the same symptoms?"

"Yes."

_What in the..._Merlin frowned. The only sort of illness that had the same symptoms for everyone was non-magical, because magic _always _reacted differently with other magic. It could be minute differences, if the offensive magic was strong enough, but there were always differences. "No difference at all? Not even between the rash patterns?"

"We tried looking. It all seemed random. Left sides, right sides, face, torso, legs, arms, multiple bands, single bands, there is no pattern to see."

"What about time duration?" Merlin asked.

"...We did not look at that. They all progress at different rates, but we were more focused on trying to stop the illness than measuring the times."

"Sir Gwaine, if you don't mind, please get Healer Phaedrus to add any records he has to that list he's supposed to prepare for me. I want to take a look at the disease progression rates."

"Right." Gwaine left.

Merlin looked back down on the child and murmured a spell. Her eyes flashed gold. The girl glowed as well, lit up from the inside, and the mother and siblings gasped as they saw the black shadows that represented bone. The ribs were starting to net together, and there were patches that definitely did not belong to the original skeletal architecture.

Merlin murmured another spell, a disease-begone spell. She was not entirely surprised that it did not work. Deciding to focus on small areas for now, she went to the ribs and tried to undo the growth there. The tissue was stubborn, but to her gratification, she _sensed _it fight _back_.

"It's an infection, not a curse," She announced.

Selene's mouth dropped open. "How do you know?"

"Curses don't have survival-instincts," Merlin dropped the frail wrist. "Infections are living things. Could be magical in nature, but they fight back and you can sense it if you know what to look for. I don't know what kind of infection it is, however."

"It's an infection. That narrows it down from 'we don't know'."

"It _is _a start," Merlin agreed, "Seems to be _within _the growth though. Something that is airborne, enters the respiratory system, goes to the nervous system and starts stimulating bone growth." She looked at Selene. "Let's hit the books."


	10. Chapter Ten

Lady of Magic

Chapter Ten

The days after Merlin left with Gwaine, Roskin, and their two Culacian visitors were actually quite busy for Arthur. Normally he had time to himself every day to train, to go riding, to read, which was a habit he picked up ever since he became King. Usually, the busiest days of his life were when he had to entertain guests, and even then he tended to have mornings and evenings to himself.

This time, however, he barely had any time to wash his face and get dressed before work was piled in his office, and worked on one thing or other until it was time to go to bed. After breakfast he was discussing military commissions with his advisors, discussing law proposals, addressing the highway patrols that were overlooking the path to Beronat's walls, telling Pollux that _no_, he was not interested in courting Princess Rowan or Princess Iris or Lady Elata and who on earth was Lady Irimelle? Then came the looters and the bandits who were trying to sabotage the highway projects, and Arthur had to decide, _twenty men for the northeast highway to Ealdor, get some more archers to the southern outpost_, but the bandits might be spies and Arthur had to dictate long letters to neighboring kingdoms because _'I have some of your people, would you like to explain why they are sneaking around my lands?'_

"You come up with good ideas," He complained to Lancelot, "Ones that, frankly, benefit others as much as you, and probably even more, depending on what their priorities are, and there will _always _be _someone_ stupid enough to try to sabotage it. Really, what is the point of messing with building highways? I am starting off building in my own land, for crying out loud. That there is a nice entryway into Camelot for anyone who wants to invade, but instead of sensibly waiting for me to finish _before _they attack, they choose to do so before work is even under way. What is the point of that? Seriously, what is the point? All because they only see that Camelot is going to have flourishing trade, and by _golly_, they cannot let that happen even if this means their own trade improves as well. I seriously want to know what sort of seeds these rulers sprout from that can be so absolutely _thick_. I think next year I will send each of them a giant nutcracker. _Something _might actually get into their skulls then."

Lancelot was careful to keep his voice down as he snickered. Arthur had already been careful to complain where he would not be overheard; it would not do for his subjects to hear him talk about risking his own kingdom. Still, the knight's laughter might draw attention.

"You think Merlin has a cure for idiocy?" Lancelot whispered with an impish grin.

"Pfft. Of course not. She would have cured herself, if she did."

This time, Lancelot let out a full-blown laugh. "Still, would that all of our associates were as idiotic as Merlin!"

This got another round of laughs from both of them, and then Arthur had to go to court.

Four hours of meeting, two of which consisted of debates over semantics, and then it was time to look through letters. Once, he got one about a corrupt lord—Lord Seltor had been suspected of working in the black market, and one report finally turned up something that could allow Arthur to have him burned: three hundred slaves stuffed in a dungeon, starved and brutalized to be shipped for sale. The King gnashed his teeth at this and mused not for the first time that it was possible to be furiously happy. Or happily furious? He sent Lancelot with a team of knights to arrest the scoundrel.

"Use whatever force is necessary, but I'd like him brought here _alive_," He told Lancelot, "If you kill him at his castle, that would deprive _me _the pleasure of watching him die. The same goes for maiming, though obviously that order is much more lax."

"Understood, Sire," Lancelot saluted. He looked determined and eager, eyes cold and hard. No generosity for those like Lord Seltor...though not _lord _anymore. Like Arthur, Lancelot was outraged at the crimes—and absolutely delighted to exact justice. On Arthur's part, he found the act of giving the order almost as satisfying as kicking the man's door in himself. One word from him, and the man's lordship was no more.

Sometimes, it was _good _to be the King.

Every day, tax collection, crop yields, predictions and actual outcomes—he designated multiple tasks to Pollux and still found his hands full. One evening, he received a missive, _Ah,_ Princess Lydeth of Desmirck was marrying Prince Elfkir of Casvil. A wedding invitation announced in a week's time. That actually meant that all this time, Elfkir and Lydeth had already been engaged, because there was no way the wedding could be so soon...unless something inappropriate happened. Arthur did not care much, one way or another, but he did rub the bridge of his nose at the thought of having to leave Camelot to dance with other kings.

_Is there a way for me to get out of this?_ Not without a war on his doorstep. Off he was going—but first, reconstruction on the walls of the fort for maintenance purposes, supplying the disgruntled druids with herbal shipments, and really, Merlin should have been doing this, except Merlin was on her way to Culacia. Trade agreements with neighbors, missives to his vassals to push for updates, Crown Princes getting born, Crown Princesses getting born, Queens dying, lords dying, condolence letters, congratulatory letters, problems with tariffs, problems with trade routes, testing personalities through mildly provocative letters, getting tested—and this was actually one of the few times Arthur mused that it would be _nice _to have a Queen to share the work with. _She _could do all the boring tasks like running the castle and writing letters to people he did not care about. The trouble was, of course, that the stuff he found boring might bore her as well, and as many princesses as there were who were actually competent at these sort of things, there were just as many _incompetent_ women, but sometimes there was never really a way to tell until after the wedding vows.

Sometimes, it was _lousy_ to be the King.

* * *

><p>The wedding was to take place in Casvil, which was a bit of a journey from Camelot. Casvil was a smaller kingdom than Camelot, and actually resembled Camelot during Uther's reign; unremarkable for the most part, with gilded, luxurious nobles. Elfkir was said to be sort of like his namesake, in that he was thin and tall like a reed. From accounts, Elfkir was a frail man with a passive nature and quiet demeanor. The King of Camelot had never met him before, sharing correspondence with only his father, King Dralkor.<p>

Casvil was decorated for the wedding festivities, and Arthur was greeted as appropriate to his station. Elyan, Leon, and Percivil were with him, as were several foot soldiers who provided the escort. King Dralkor was present with the groom, and gripped Arthur's arm heartily when he arrived at the castle gate.

"Well met, Arthur-King!" The man exclaimed. He was jolly, but he was slender like his son and not warrior material at all. The man was, Arthur mused, probably a sorcerer, but he never used magic that anyone could point to.

"This is indeed a festive meeting, Your Majesty," Arthur returned.

"Yes, yes indeed! This is my son, Elfkir. Son, this is His Majesty the King of Camelot."

"An honor, Your Majesty," Elfkir bowed. He was what rumors made of him, Arthur found, though not entirely unattractive; just not warrior material. His hair was a dusty shade between gold and brown and gray, wispy like a cloud. Arthur gave him a nod; he was the senior in rank here, even though Elfkir was not much younger than him.

Elfkir had a younger sister, Princess Ethelyn, whose hair was as wispy as her brother's even though it was longer. She, too, was thin like a reed, and lacked much of the curves one tended to find in a woman. Her face was also bony, which made her look old. She was not exactly homely, but she was not comely either, and this must have troubled her greatly throughout her youth because she seemed to have a difficult time meeting Arthur's eyes. Her mother and Dralkor's wife, Queen Andarta, looked far more attractive than her daughter, but also a lot more plump than the rest of her family.

Desmirck was also present; King Dillon and his daughter, Princess Lydeth. The girl was quite pretty, with golden ringlets and emerald-green eyes. She carried a similar confidence within her that Morgana once had, and though she was far sweeter than Morgana ever was, this made Arthur doubly glad he was not the one marrying her.

"How is Her Majesty doing?" Arthur asked Dillon, "Queen Bellada?"

"Beside herself," Dillon chuckled, "You know how women are."

"Is she not coming to her own daughter's wedding?"

"Of course she is! Nothing can keep her from it. We expect her arrival in the morn."

"Very good! Would hardly be a wedding without _her_, after all. You are giving away a fine daughter, my friend."

"Indeed, that is so!"

Other kings and princes had arrived before Arthur and the King of Camelot had to greet them all before settling down for a meal to buffer the energy depleted from his journey. Since the wedding promised a great banquet, as such things required, the meal Arthur and the royal company was treated to consisted of rather simple dishes, though there was good wine and ale, and everyone was in good spirits.

"So when will we be toasting to _your _happily ever after, Arthur-King?"

"I pray to learn myself. Camelot has not allowed me a moment's rest since I took the scepter. Just recently I recruited a healer to my kingdom and it has been adventure after adventure." Sometimes, Arthur did not hesitate to use his friends to hide behind.

"Ah yes, the famous Healer Emrys. Word is that you are building highways for the woman." Murmurs of amused agreement.

"She was definitely an additional incentive."

"My knights once went to her clinic, I think it was two years ago. Heard she was quite the specimen. They could face dragons if need be, any manner of beasts, but they dare not cross Healer Emrys. She put them on bedrest for two days when they were there, something none of my court healers have ever succeeded in doing."

"Hoho! Good on her!"

"They said she was an odd-looking creature, though."

"How so?"

Arthur chewed, listening to the exchange.

"You know how sorcerers have that peculiar look to them? They said Healer Emrys did not even really look like a _human_."

This was said without malice, so Arthur chose not to take offense. "She is definitely human, though I will grant you, she does not lay claim to the traditional traits of beauty."

"Perhaps one day I might meet her myself." A subtle inquiry as to whether Healer Emrys worked exclusively for Camelot.

"Certainly," Arthur said readily, "Healer Emrys heals all who approach her. She is certainly not bound to Camelot, just because her clinic is there."

This sounded very agreeable to everyone, enough that no one remembered Arthur's marital status for the rest of the dinner. They did remember other things, like Uther's hate of mages. Arthur was as critical of his father's discrimination as anyone else, but he was frankly sick of hearing people talk about how Camelot had improved so much since his father's reign. Uther was not a bad king. Every king discriminated against someone, and Uther kept the poor fed, kept the nobles in check, kept the kingdom reasonably safe, which was far more than could be said for all these other mage-loving sovereigns. Saying so would be undiplomatic, however, so "I try my best to do what is right for my people," and "My Father had the best of intentions and had good reasons for his decisions and actions," and "Times change, and we shall see if my rule proves prosperous for Camelot".

"That was quite a dinner," He said to Percival later, careful not to reveal too much of his actual thoughts because a guest should not badmouth anyone in another's hospitality, especially if the host and other guests had servants who could eavesdrop. "So many old acquaintances," _that I would not care to see again_, "This wedding promises to be a spectacular one," _In how long it is going to be._

"Indeed it is," Percival agreed, giving Arthur a knowing look.

* * *

><p>He dreamed that he was at the wedding already, and Merlin was decked out in a white wedding gown. Even his subconscious brain could not imagine her dressed up like that, because Merlin's gown was blurry and unclear, and he could not seem to focus on it no matter how he tried. He soon forgot about it, because Merlin would not stop making fun of him and calling him a prat, and part of him that was still connected to reality mused that if Merlin <em>did <em>get married, it would be _so _like her not to let up on her King even on her wedding day. In the dream he was mostly annoyed with her, wishing she would stop listing all his flaws to all these other people and got on with her wedding, because weddings were long—the ceremony itself was boring, and then there was the reception afterwards, where Arthur was going to have to pretend he got along with whomever Merlin decided to marry—the groom changed multiple times throughout the dream, but Arthur seemed to dislike all of them. At one point she was marrying Elfkir, and Dralkor was slapping Arthur on the back, proclaiming, _"Camelot had such a sour history with mages. Casvil was always friendly toward mages! And look, we got ourselves that same servant who kept risking her life to save yours. Now she can do it for my son instead!"_

He woke up from the dream in a foul mood, then spent most of the morning wondering what on earth his mind was doing the previous night. He got to the point where he became more amused than anything else, and then realized the date. Merlin was scheduled to arrive in Culacia today.

_That _put him right back in the foul mood.

"So how long will you be staying, Arthur-King?" Asked King Adris of Avarok when the royal guests sat down to have breakfast together. Avarok was a large kingdom, almost larger than Camelot depending on how one calculated the area, but it was far away from Camelot and there was no sense in the two clashing, at least not for now. Adris also had the benefit of being a young king like Arthur and thus in the same boat when it came to marital affairs.

"I intend to leave the day after the wedding," Arthur replied over a mouthful of eggs, "I cannot afford to stay away from Camelot for too long. Too much to be done."

"I understand. I can just imagine all the paperwork piled up on my desk when I return."

"How long is the journey to Avarok, Adris-King?"

"About eight days." Adris looked rueful. "I intend to head first to Talthorn for a visit."

_Princess Rowan._ The young lady was brown-haired and small, with a round, doll-like face with large, doe-like eyes. Her skin was slightly lighter than Gwen's, and she was incredibly sharp, kind of like Merlin. The only problem with her that Arthur could see was that she was undeniably spoiled—she had enough charisma to mask it from most people, knew enough about superficial gestures to _appear _generous, but she was inherently selfish and uncompromising about her own ends. "I hear that it is quite beautiful there. You will enjoy it, I'm sure."

King Adris, though young, was at least as perceptive as Arthur. He did not really have Arthur's spine—he tended to let others walk over him a lot more than Arthur ever would, but the man was not a fool. Ultimately, his apparent "spinelessness" might even be a mark of greater patience. Arthur had always struggled with impulsiveness, so maybe Adris was actually the better king. "We shall see. Engagements of this nature tend to take the fun out of things."

"Don't I know it."

An older Prince, whose father was at home ill and who was already married, leaned over to them with a cheeky grin. He was in his thirties and had an eight-year-old son of his own, whom he did not bring with him. Arthur needed a moment to remember his name; Theodore, a rather cheerful fellow who was not the most responsible of individuals, but who had a good head on his shoulders and swung with a good arm. Arthur rather liked him from the past few correspondences.

"Don't tell me that none of these fine ladies appeal to you," He gestured at Arthur to the others. "It is not often that so many of the fairer sex grace us with their presence."

"Fairer sex grace us with their presence often enough," Adris snorted, "It is those of noble blood that keep away from us."

Prince Theodore laughed outright at this. "I will give you that. But still, if I were not married already, I would look at these fine maidens and think, 'lo, would I be fortunate to have any one of them by my side!'"

"Would that I have the time," Arthur groaned, and suddenly mused that his situation in the dream was also applicable to the bride in question. "Not to mention, any Queen I take would have to get use to Merlin."

"Healer Emrys?" A mischievous glint appeared in Theodore's eyes.

"Yes, women do seem to get along rather poorly with each other," Adrys observed.

"That is because they lack the strength to settle their differences in the courtyard," Theodore remarked in half-jesting tones, "Without a good brawl to let off steam, they sit and simmer and stew."

Arthur thought about Morgana and Gwen. "Nay, I doubt that is the case. Not to mention, if Merlin were to choose the courtyard as her place of settlement, I would likely have to find another Queen."

"Hahaha, hard to pull the blows with magic eh? But is she that temperamental?"

"She is the most powerful magician in the land," Adris mused, "Someone like her would not be too patient with a demanding Queen. You _do_ have quite the conundrum on your hands, Arthur-King. Mind you, I am quite glad I am not the one wearing your crown. Camelot seems to be a shared target for all druids. It is actually quite baffling."

Arthur scowled at this. "Camelot deals well enough with the druids, and now that we have Healer Emrys within our walls, I expect the druids would be much more conservative."

"There is no question of that," Adris realized his error, "I merely meant that the issues Camelot deals with are far more complex than those of Avarok. Speaking of complex issues, how far do you intend to extend the highways?"

After breakfast, some of the ladies wished to go riding, and the men opted to join them for lack of better things to do. Arthur found himself alongside Queen Talia and her daughter, Princess Rosalind, a fair-haired girl with skin like alabaster and eyes like cobalt. They both rode side-saddle, and the mother rode in front while the daughter rode behind, both facing Arthur. In a group, this arrangement was actually not so uncomfortable, since they did not have to steer as carefully and could simply sit straight while facing him, but Arthur found his waist aching in sympathy. The last time he saw Merlin, she had been riding off to Culacia with one leg on each side of the horse. She was due to be there today. The thought made his mood plummet.

"It _is _such a gorgeous day today," The Queen exclaimed, "With any luck, the wedding day will be as sunny as today. Lydeth deserves that much; she is such a sweetheart. I remember my own wedding day. It was not as sunny, though thank goodness, it did not rain. I was a nervous wreck as it was, rain would have appeared far too ominous." She, too, asked about Arthur's highways, and remarked nonchalantly about Beronat's walls. Her own kingdom was rather far from Beronat, enough that Beronat's activities was not an immediate concern, but all capable leaders kept track of each other.

"If the Queen had still been alive," The older woman babbled, "Beronat would be a different place. I remember Bronwyn. She was an incredibly good woman, sensible and talented. Such a shame that her health was so poor. It was really King Eldwin's fault. His bride was already frail and expecting, and by some stroke of insanity he thinks sending her on a journey to her sister and his brother-in-law in Orlingoth was a good idea. Everyone knew the trip was what killed her. Women simply should not travel so much."

Rosalind remained quiet through all of this, and Arthur wondered if her mother talked so much at home that she drained everyone else of words. Talia was not a malicious woman, though; she was a simpleton, but rather harmless, and by and large Arthur would rather put up with her ramblings and gossip than most of the other company.

"I think Beronat is going to provoke Orlingoth," Talia shook her head, "Someone should make Eldwin step down before his loss of senses destroys his whole kingdom."

After talking with some mildly annoying but still tolerable fellow guests during the ride out, on the way back Arthur had to put up with the guests that were frankly intolerable.

"I must say, Your Majesty, the highways is just a _brilliant _plan. Truly, the King of Camelot is the wisest ruler in all of Albion. I think trade would become _so _much more convenient, all thanks to you, Arthur-King. It is an unbelievable honor to be in your presence, truly there has never been a greater King in history, nor will there ever be hereafter…"

"…I think if Riordan conquers Vaul, he should kill Veron and be done with it. I would much rather have Riordan rule both territories, wouldn't you say? Veron was a knave through and through, whatever his blood. He should be gutted and his organs burned before his eyes, and his wife should be taken that the harlot that she is, and his daughter as well, might as well get started _now_…" Veron's daughter was three years old.

"I remember them saying that Lady Morgana was such a beauty in her day, back when she was a ward of the late King Uther! How does it feel to have the woman you grew up with try to kill you all the time?"

Arthur retired to his quarters before the midday meal almost _laughing_ at the absurdity of it all. "I should keep a record," He said to Percival, "'Insights into the inanities of Royalty.' It will record all the insipid remarks and actions made by Kings and Princes and Lords and their families."

"Your Majesty will have to reveal your own blunders in that case. It's only fair."

"I can recruit someone else to jot them down. You, for example."

"Oh, nay, Sire," Percival laughed and raised his hand in a shielding gesture, "I would not dare. Besides, words were never my best suit. We can recruit Gwaine; I think he would be especially amenable to the task."

"I do not trust Gwaine not to _enhance _certain aspects of the story for dramatic flair," Arthur rolled his eyes. "For his personal benefit, and the reverse of mine."

"Merlin will keep him in check," Percival said with a straight face.

_Merlin._ She was going to arrive in Culacia. Arthur's mood dipped yet again as he wondered if she was well—what if she became infected? What if Gwaine and Roskin did? He was not keen on _any _of them falling ill.

Percival was sometimes very perceptive too. "Sire, I am sure the healer is fine. She has doubtless encountered great many other ailments over the past five years. If she's managed on her own so far, I'm sure she can manage this now."

"I know. It is just frustrating that this time if she fails, I cannot send her to muck out the stables or polish my armor."

"I think she has enough incentive to succeed nonetheless, Your Majesty," Percival could not maintain his straight face anymore.

"She had better," Arthur grumbled.

* * *

><p>In the next gathering, Arthur found himself being entertained by the ladies among the guests, though it was hard to tell whether they were doing the entertaining or he was. He was a little frustrated by how he could not seem to speak to a young maiden without there being some expectation of at the very least <em>interest<em>, and while he was _interested _it was _impossible _to gauge a personality when their behaviors were so skewed. Arthur was frankly tempted to one day dress up as a manservant and see if he could engage any princess that way. Maybe get Merlin to do a character analysis for him, since women tend to show different sides to them when they were among themselves. He can pose Merlin as a lady, and the thought made him nearly guffaw, though not for the same reasons it would five years ago. Five years ago Merlin was a bumbling idiot. Now she was probably more regal than any one of the real ones.

_How _would _Merlin look anyhow?_ Not beautiful, to be sure; the healer could never be called _beautiful_, she was far too odd-looking for that—but _striking_, certainly, a creature of power and spirit, and—

"What do you think, Your Majesty?" Princess Rosalind was a little more talkative this time around, and she was holding up a figurine of a unicorn; it was obviously done by someone who had never seen one before. "I think it looks splendid."

_Alright, critique of craftsmanship, not the worst thing I have had to do. _"It looks very finely crafted, I must say." Slaying the unicorn was not something Arthur was especially proud of. It was not just because of the resulting curse on Camelot—that had all frankly ended well enough. It was more because he realized, looking back with wiser eyes, that he had come to be so proud of his warrior skills that he did not really care anymore what he was using them on, so long as he defeated something. He had not bothered to see if something was beautiful, and therefore could not distinguish beauty. Sometimes he thought about Morgana back in the old days when they were both young and carefree, and he wondered if part of the reason he lost her was because he failed to appreciate her too. He had thought her wit was vicious and she was always insulting him, even more so than Merlin because he could do nothing about it. Rather than embrace their sibling bond and take her jabs in the good humor that they were, usually he let his pride get the best of him. He found her irritating, smarting, and could not fathom how anyone, his father included, could love her so, and think her marriageable material.

"'Tis my good luck charm," Rosalind glanced down at her unicorn. It was made of wood and rather nice to the touch; Arthur could see why she brought it along with her. "I take it everywhere I go. I have never seen a real unicorn; should like to have one, if that is possible, but either way, this is the closest I can get to it."

Nobility, Arthur thought ruefully, had this obsession with _owning _everything. It took being with Gwen to make Arthur realize just how unattractive that tendency was. When they saw anything worth appreciating, the first thing most thought of was, _Can I have it?_ Sometimes it extended to other people as well—girls, mostly, whose lives could be forever ruined by such possessiveness.

"Honestly," He said to the young lady, "I think that figurine would bring you more good luck than the actual creature."

This inspired a round of laughs, as everyone thought it was especially witty. Arthur laughed along with all of them, while mentally counting down the days to the day of the wedding. Next time someone had a wedding, he was going to pretend the messenger got lost.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Lady of Magic

Chapter Eleven

It was nighttime when Merlin and the Culacian healers finally came across something promising. Merlin carried her own books, and between the two they actually pieced together two halves of a whole. There was indeed an infection that could cause this disease, but it needed to be in the presence of a symbiote. Together, they cause airway irritation that progressed from the lungs to the bone, where they began creating more and more cartilage in the place of connective tissue, similar to Stone Man Syndrome, but at a much faster rate. By itself, the symbiote was harmless, while the main infection merely created cold-like symptoms.

"Why do they only attack some and not others?" Selene asked.

"I have no idea. It could have more to do with the variation in hosts." Merlin rubbed her eyes. Now that they discovered what the disease was called, _Duo Petrification_, they could start working on the treatment, which might prove to take longer than desirable. There was a long list of ingredients, some magical and some not. The recipe involved long hours of boiling and simmering and infusing with magical spells.

Gwaine rested a hand on her shoulder. "Merlin, you should get some sleep."

"I'll sleep when this is over," Merlin snapped. It was unthinkable for her to go to sleep when a plague is taking lives like this. "I'm not tired. My eyes are, a little, because I was reading so much. The research part is over, now we have to get to the cooking. Do we have all the ingredients?"

"We're missing some," Phaedrus said with a concerned look. "_Likovit _leaf is running low, nowhere enough to treat everyone. We're going to have to collect more. We're out of _amthas, marhyan, edetal, cretzel _dust, and I have..._no _idea what silver squirrels are and how we are supposed to collect their droppings."

"Silver squirrels?" Merlin's stomach plummeted. _She _had no idea what those were either. "They are different from the normal grey squirrels somehow? Where is the encyclopedia on medical ingredients? Are the properties different in some way?"

They were, to her chagrin. 。。Silver squirrels had very mild magic, and their droppings were used to dissolve precipitated minerals; it could be used to treat kidney stones without surgery and was also, to a limited extent, used to treat gout. None of the other healers seemed to know what they were either, which Merlin concluded meant that silver squirrels probably did not exist around here, or were too rare to be found. Certainly not an option with Culacia in the throes of its plague.

"What are jujube seeds?"

"Those you have to get in a market," Merlin replied, "They come from the far east. Those things do not grow around here." She was mainly worried about the silver squirrels. "I can try to create artificial ingredients to mimic the droppings. It will be touch and go though, I have no idea what the potency is and how it should interact with the other ingredients." It would also be _exhausting._ Just thinking about it made Merlin want to dig a hole in the ground. It was the only option though; it was too impractical to devote resources to find the real thing if they were not even sure if these things could be found. "In the meantime, find the herbs that you can actually find around here. One of you should go to the closest trading center to Culacia to get jujubes." When the healers simply stared at her, Merlin barked, "Now. What are you all waiting for?"

"It is nighttime," Paris blinked.

"You are sorcerers right? Do you not know illumination spells? This thing takes long enough to make as it is and I already said we will have to endure some trial-and-error. Light up the whole mountain if you have to, but I did not come to Culacia to help you so that I can do all the work and you folks can sleep!"

* * *

><p>Creating magical items was not Merlin's forte. She was always more of a direct-spell kind of person, and enchantments or the like were simply not her style. Certainly, she possessed the ability to do it, like any sorcerer, but the finesse required was not something she focused very much on. Healers also had less time to make their ingredients than they did to use them, so for the most part Merlin had simply ordered what she needed and worked with what she had in stock. It had always been sufficient, up till now. This particular plague was every physician's nightmare. All the wrong things, coming together at the wrong time.<p>

Some spells were particularly explosive, but in this particular case, each of Merlin's attempts had so far resulted in a unimpressive nothing. She used clay and tried to infuse them with magic, but while the spells did go in, they remained inert. It was hours past midnight by this time, and frustration, more than lack of sleep, was giving her a headache.

Roskin had ridden off with Paris at full-gallop to the nearest kingdom; Camelot sold the best jujubes and had the largest collection of goods, but it was too far away. On the other side of the mountain was a kingdom called Talthorn, and they were hoping that there were jujubes there for them to buy. The two received a large sum of money from the Queen, whom Merlin had not even seen yet, before taking off. Merlin enchanted the sum of money so that if the two were ever accosted by bandits and overwhelmed, Paris merely had to utter "In the name of Queen Aldrea!" for the money to return to Culacia. It was infuriating that Merlin could enchant money and not medical ingredients, and the thought made her want to hit something.

"You need _sleep_," Gwaine kept insisting, something that was also not a little bit annoying. He had shadowed her closely all this time, even refusing to leave with Paris and Roskin even though he would greatly help them with any problems with bandits, but Merlin accepted that someone from Camelot needed to look after her, if only to make sure she did not fall ill herself. Still, it was grating how little non-healers understood. _You are not any good if you keel over from exhaustion. You need to take care of yourself in order to take care of others. Don't be hasty. _All easy things to say, when the patients were _her _patients and not his, and when they die he did not need to feel the heavy weight of failure because he was no _supposed _to help them, since he had neither the responsibility nor the capability. Gwaine did not make decisions. He followed orders, so his superiors always carried the burdens when a choice went awry. There was no way he could fully comprehend her priorities, and the man was now like a parrot, non-stop nagging about things that were completely irrelevant.

Honestly, Arthur was probably the best non-healer to understand the situation. The prat had not ceased learning the consequences of his decisions even when he was still prince and not king. He was a doer too, and would be the type to forego a week of sleep if it meant doing something...he had foregone sleep before. Sometimes for Merlin's sake, too. Kind of idiotic of her, really, to constantly be dissatisfied with how little of her he saw; he saw a boy, he saw a servant, and yet still cared enough about her to risk Uther's wrath. Not that Uther would have done much to Arthur, him being the hard-won son he had gained at the loss of his queen and the only heir Uther would ever have. Still, Arthur's most prized asset had always been his dignity, and his dignity had always been something Arthur laid down for Merlin's sake, even when he did not know what she was. Now that Merlin had emerged to the world as Healer Emrys, who else would ever care about her for herself and not her magic or prestige?

_Well, maybe Gwaine._

She lost the ability to really argue with the knight when one moment she was still bending over the clay on her desk, squinting at it by the dim light of her candle, and the next moment she was stretched out on a cot and it was morning.

"See, this is the real reason why we keep women in the house so we do the work," Gwaine remarked dryly as she was washing her face to wake up, "Because once you women get going, you drive yourselves to the ground, and let's face it, you're not really made for heavy-lifting in the first place, but no amount of verbal convincing gets you to stop before you topple over like a rag doll and we carry you back home. Yes, it could be because we men don't have sharp enough tongues like you lasses, but it really does spare us the headache of having to watch you keel over if we just keep you in the house and avoid the whole matter altogether."

"Rub it in," Merlin scowled at him, though she was actually quite touched. She had endured five years without anyone caring at all about her. It was a little difficult to accept his concern graciously, but she saw it for what it was. "Besides, we all know you keep us in the house because if we were out of the house there would be nothing left for you to do. My mother raised me by herself just fine." _Well, she did have the whole village to help, but still. _"And through it all, did _you _get any sleep, Sir Nag-a-lot?"

"As a matter of fact, I did, at least as much as you. See, look at how much better you appear now with three hours of sleep under your belt! Those black circles under your eyes are now dark grey instead."

Merlin made a rude noise and went back to work with however much of her dignity she could muster. She suddenly recollected how Arthur use to check up on her after a particularly trying time, whether it was illness or exhaustion, and then try to cover it up by giving her work to do. _Shine my armor, polish my boots, tidy up my room._ Gwen once told Merlin that Arthur never allowed anyone else to touch his things when Merlin was there. _"So, I'm the worst servant he's ever had, eh?"_

Gwaine brought her breakfast in a very strange reversal of how Merlin use to bring Arthur breakfast, and she commented that it seemed like the wrong man was doing the job. "Well," Gwaine pointed out, after pushing her down to her seat by the shoulders, "I guess being a sorceress and all, you can always make yourself Queen of Camelot and force Arthur to be your manservant, but I would have to kill you in that case."

"Could be Queen-for-a-Day," Merlin dug in quickly, wanting to spend as little time eating as possible. "The first of April, say, I'll rule Camelot, and Arthur will start the day by waking me, bringing me breakfast, and setting up my apothecary and my clinic, putting on new bedsheets for the patients, and I can demonstrate clinical skills to new druid learners on him. They can feel up the King! It'll be a royal event."

Gwaine guffawed. "You'd love it too much. You wouldn't want to give up the crown by the second of April."

"I'd get tired of the paperwork really quickly."

"Ah. Good point." Gwaine's lips quirked. "You'd be the most benevolent usurper ever. Only one day, eh?"

"I would. I'm doing it more for the dresses and the jewelry, though." Merlin was wolfing down her eggs at a speed that rivaled the Knights of the Round Table. "I'll have Gwen do my hair the way she does Morgana's. I heard somewhere that men don't actually see the pretty woman, they just see what she wears. I'd never be _beautiful_, but let's see if I am shiny enough, I might fool some men into thinking so."

Gwaine plopped down opposite her. "Merlin," He sounded a little discomfited, "You're not _ugly_, and...you know what, can I be honest here?"

"What, you weren't always honest with me?"

"It's not that. You're probably going to hit me for this, but now I'm _really _curious how you'd look if you're decked out in a lady's regalia."

Merlin shocked him mildly, making him jump and wince.

"Oh well," She shrugged, "Not my cup of tea."

"Ow! Stupid...magic! Ack...so wait," Gwaine leaned forward, "What if I can convince Arthur to let you try on the dresses anyway?"

"What, all so that we can see how far I fall short of Morgana?"

"Merlin, at this point, no one thinks Morgana is all that pretty. You know how they say that beauty has to be on the _inside?_"

"That is true, I have worked on Morgana before, her insides look just like mine."

It took a moment for Gwaine to grasp the pun, and another for him to realize everything else she said. "When did you work on Morgana?"

"Couple of years ago. She came by my clinic. I patched her up."

"You _patched her up?"_

"I _am _a healer, Gwaine," Merlin reminded him, "I do not pick and choose who I am a healer to. If a patient comes seeking my help, as long as I'm not being asked to kill someone else or hurt someone else, I'm theirs."

"But it's _Morgana!_ Her very existence hurts someone else! A lot of someone elses!"

Merlin waved. "As I told Arthur: if you don't want me to help someone, make sure they don't come near my clinic. Can you imagine what it would be like if we healers started taking such matters into our own hands? Deciding who lives and who dies?"

"I don't believe this. You _healed _Morgana. You let Mordred go...you know what? I do believe this. This is just like you, Merlin."

Merlin actually had no idea what Gwaine was talking about, but she had finished her breakfast and was donning an apron so she could continue working on the ingredient. Gwaine shadowed her again, grumbling about _sorcerers _and _women too powerful for their own good__, _which Merlin ruefully ignored.

* * *

><p>By mid-morning, Merlin was sporting the mother-of-all headaches, the clay remained inert and she received notice that the Queen was going to visit her in minutes. She honestly felt like crying.<p>

"Tell the Queen what is going on, and then go take a _nap_, Merlin," Gwaine wore a scowl on his face, "Seriously, for a healer, you are a lousy caretaker for yourself, and that is saying something. You could blast all the druids to the abyss with just a few mumbles and that eye-glowing thing. You are going to figure this out."

"If only I could 'blast all the' illnesses out of these patients with 'just a few mumbles and that eye-glowing thing'," Merlin exclaimed while holding her pounding head.

"I take it all back," Gwaine went on as if she never interrupted him, "You have _not _changed at all, Merlin."

Merlin was about to retort, because that remark made no sense, but then the Queen arrived.

Aldrea was golden like her subjects, with dark black hair that gleamed like polished silk. She was lean and elegant, clad in pristine white that made her appear like she was floating as she walked. Merlin greeted her as was proper, noting that she seemed to be in her mid-forties, but her skin was as smooth as a twenty-year-old's. She was also a sorceress, and thus carried a scepter that _resonated _with magic, enough that Merlin's headache increased ten-fold just from the proximity.

"Emrys," The Queen inclined her head, "I have heard a great many things about you."

"Your Majesty."

"How are things?" The woman asked.

Merlin took this to mean she wanted updates. She was not sure how much Phaedrus told her, so she started with a brief summary of everything in general. "None of us know what silver squirrels are," She told the Queen, omitting the fact that they needed the droppings since that detail was not important in the grand scheme of things. "As such, I am currently attempting to conjure artificial ingredients with the same characteristics. It is, admittedly, a delicate procedure that I have not practiced much. So far, I am still working on it."

"I am very grateful that you came all the way out here," The Queen turned to Gwaine, "Once this is over, for better or worse, I would like to give the King of Camelot a gift, for allowing Emrys to come here."

"The King has no say in the healer's duties," Gwaine bowed.

"He did provide a fine escort," Aldrea returned, "To see that Emrys arrived to us safely. It gladdens my heart to see you here, Healer."

She was a mild-mannered but solid character, eyes sharp and mind focused. It turned out, the Queen had enough knowledge of medicine to follow along on the details, so Merlin also reported on her difficulties with clay. "The clay here has a unique property of absorbing toxins, which is why I really want to use it as the ingredient. If anything goes wrong at all, the clay would act as a good buffer, but the spells are not doing anything." It was like threading a needle; one slight misalignment and it becomes a total miss.

The Queen murmured some suggestions and the two women looked over the books, but there was really no easy way to do this except try, try again, try once more. The good news was, once Merlin actually enchanted the clay, modifying and fine-tuning the potency of any spell would be incredibly easy to do. The initial enchantments were the toughest part. _Like giving birth._

"We will keep working on it," Merlin rubbed her temples. So far, the sorcerers had not finished collecting the other ingredients, so she was not _behind_, but it did not feel good to have no progress all this time.

"You have my deepest thanks, Healer," Said Queen Aldrea. "Is there anything you need at all?"

"Food," Gwaine piped up before Merlin could say otherwise, "She needs food, and I know that baths are relaxing for men so they must be relaxing for women as well, if you have any bathing oils bring them."

"Sir Gwaine!" Merlin was aghast. _What has gotten into him?_

"His Majesty would flay my hide if I do not do this," Gwaine shrugged at her, unconcerned.

The Queen was not quite willing to indulge in any requests that would allow Merlin to waste any time. "It is noon," She allowed, "I will have someone bring you a meal."

"Ignore Gwaine," Merlin insisted, "He does not know what he is talking about. I will take a brief break to eat, but only to ensure I have enough energy. I have no need for _baths_. No one here is going to appreciate me lounging about when lives are on the line. Gwaine, back. I will let you know as soon as there is something to work with."

"If there is anything we can do to help," The Queen said again, "I will ask Healer Phaedrus if there is someone who can help you with the conjuration."

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

* * *

><p>By mid-afternoon, Merlin finally succeeded in a small batch of clay, and supplies came trickling in. They were still missing jujubes, but the jujubes were to replenish blood, not stop the disease process directly, so Merlin modified the recipe to exclude it for now. All the available pots and cauldrons were brought and what ingredients they had were used to fill them. Three hours later, the sun was still above the horizon, but they were distributing the medicine to the sick. The books had no dosage instructions, so Merlin and the healers discussed loudly about what the dosages should be. In the end, Merlin actually relented to Phaedrus, because despite her relative powers, he was still the one with the most experience.<p>

This time around, Merlin pulled an all-nighter without accidentally dozing off. With all the activity of monitoring patients and feeding medicines and supervising brewing, Gwaine had little room to remind her to rest.

By morning, two patients died despite Merlin's best efforts. She thought about them for several seconds before calling it and directing their bodies to autopsy. The families took issue with that.

"Look," Merlin said impatiently, "Normally I would say, yes, by all means you are entitled to your loved one's body and an autopsy would hardly bring them back. This is not about you anymore. I do not care what your funeral practices are. Your fellow kin are dying around you and I need to know if the medicine we brewed is working at all or if we should start looking at another method. I will not have an entire nation die out simply because you folks are a bit touchy about someone cutting into your already-dead relative." When they continued to pester her, she finally had it. "Shall I call Her Majesty here so she can _order _the autopsy? I will do that and I know for a fact that your Queen will _not _be happy about it!"

Gwaine watched the proceedings with a solemn expression. Merlin felt lousy herself, to an extent. She was not normally so pushy about procedures, or so uncompromising. Seeing Gwaine's disapproval irked her, though. She had gone for a day and a half without sleep already, her magical reserves were depleting, and the disease was unfurling before her eyes like a looming demon. She had no patience nor will to wait for an open-minded family, or for people in general to learn the occasional self-sacrifice necessary to protect a whole community. She was harsh because the families were selfish first. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and a plague was a desperate time.

_Ironically, Arthur would understand._ It was strange, to miss him so keenly, but she did. She wondered what he was doing now. He had not been particularly happy when she left; Merlin had bee preoccupied, but she did notice that much. She wished Culacia was Camelot, actually. The people of Camelot seemed much more pragmatic and selfless than the people of Culacia.

"Merlin," Gwaine took her elbows at some point and started guiding her to a spare cot, "Sleep, or I will knock you out. Pretty sure that is not the same thing, but it would be as close as I can get you."

"You do that, I will turn you into a newt," Merlin snapped, yanking herself away from him. "I need a pain reliever, but I'm alright."

* * *

><p>On the fifth day, after the autopsies that grew in number and additional tinkering with the formula, they finally saw results.<p>

"She got better," Said Selene with noticeable delight. The patient in question was Aria, the little girl who had been in the later stages of the disease. She had been unconscious for much of the time, but that morning she woke, and seemed vaguely coherent.

"Hello," Merlin took out her listening scope as she regarded the groggy eyes, "You were sleeping for a long time, Aria. My name is Emrys. I am just going to check on your lungs, alright?"

The girl did not answer. It was not clear if she even understood what was going on. Merlin lifted the child's shirt. The child had not hit puberty yet, and the chest was flat. Her breathing sounded unusually loud through the scope, which Merlin found to be the case for most of the patients past the earliest stages. The rash was still an angry red, and the ribs were still fused together in places, but she was breathing much better. Some of the extra cartilage had dissolved.

"Very good," Merlin nodded with composure, though she was actually ready to lie flat on the ground in relief. "Very...very good. I would increase the amount of _amthas_, but this is good. This is very good." She paused. "We have a chance here."

The mother burst into tears.

Days of single-minded focus, and it paid off. All of the sudden, her fears from the trip here and the past few days working with the Culacians seemed like something from a dream. They had hope now, and it was a strong one. Merlin was ready to fall down and kiss the earth. When the news reached the other healers, there was an audible cheer in the halls, and then activity quickened even more after that, now that they knew where everything was headed.

Queen Aldrea was immensely relieved when they gave her the update. "Thank the spirits," She exclaimed, clasping Merlin's hand tightly in her own, "We owe you a debt we can never repay."

"You can start by letting her sleep," Gwaine said wryly.

"Shut your trap, Gwaine. Ignore him. He is a silly boy. I am a healer," She insisted to the Queen, "This is my job. I am only glad that I was able to help."

Now that a cure had been found and tested, Aldrea was far more willing to acquiesce to any demands for luxury. "You have done so much for us," She declared softly, "I cannot tell you how grateful we are. Perhaps it is time for you to rest, Healer. You have accomplished the crucial portion."

First, however, Paris and Roskin arrived with a wagon filled with bushels of dried jujubes. Merlin ate a few of them herself, because the patients needed the seeds and she needed the fruit. Supper that day was date soup, once workers took out the seeds, and then Merlin spent the evening trying to enchant another batch of clay before the first batch ran out, much to Gwaine's irritation. By then, she had gone four days without sleeping, and Gwaine managed, with Roskin's help, to tuck her into a cot for "a quick nap".

"Did Gaius ever stay up for four days straight like this?"

"Gaius was old," Merlin began, but Gwaine was not finished.

"You must have lost half your weight while you were here. Rest, and first thing when you wake up is food." The knight shook his head. "What am I going to tell Arthur when we get back?"

"You tell him that it was a success. And that he's a prat." Merlin shut her eyes, and her mind went out like a light.

* * *

><p>She woke somehow feeling more tired than before. Gwaine was wiping her face with a warm wet cloth. She tried to sit up, but felt surprisingly weak.<p>

"Take it easy and stay quiet, alright?"

_Huh?_

Roskin was at the door, which was closed. He seemed to be listening intently to what was happening on the other side though.

"What happened?" She asked, her voice sounding feeble and distant even to her.

"You exhausted yourself, lass," Gwaine smoothed a strand of hair back from her face. His hand felt cool. She blinked.

_Great. _What was Roskin doing?

"Just relax, alright?"

Something was wrong. Even the air felt odd, tense. It was too quiet. Merlin shifted on her bed.

"Easy, easy."

"What is going on?" This felt like when Camelot was preparing for an invasion. "Where is everyone?"

"People are getting better. They are recovering. You need to rest, Merlin."

This was infuriating.

"What is going on?" she demanded again, "Something is happening. I sense it in the air, and you are acting strange."

It took a little more wrangling, but Gwaine finally gave in.

"Queen Aldrea is distracting Crestathion," He told her solemnly, "He emerged yesterday with an army of druids."

_What?_ "How long was I out?"

"Two days. Look," He pressed her down so she could not get up, "Let the Culacians handle it. They have a lot of sorcerers. Let them help you for a change."

"Crestathion is not someone you mess around with—"

"Neither is the Queen, and _you _are in no shape to fight."

"He has an _army _of druids, Gwaine, Culacia has an army of _sick_ people—"

"Merlin, stop. Let the Queen handle this."

"What on earth does he want?" _Is it me?_

"I do not know." Gwaine looked like he had a suspicion, but the knight was being truthful in the stricter sense. "Look, you'll definitely have to handle things at some point, but you might as well let other people handle things when it's their turn, alright? He might not know you're here. He might be here for something else. If you charge out there it's only going to complicate matters for Her Majesty."

Merlin swallowed, feeling dizzy and sick and frightened. Gwaine was right. She was not an asset right now.

Large fingers wrapped around hers in a reassuring grip. "Get some rest, Merlin."

Her eyes somehow fell closed, and she could not open them again. _Rest...sounds like a good idea right now..._


	12. Chapter Twelve

Lady of Magic

Chapter Twelve

On the day of the wedding, Arthur took his place by King Adris, since at that point the King of Avarok was the only individual Arthur could stand to be near. Elfkir was decked out in blue velvet and white silks imported from the silk road, embroidered with gleaming golden thread and sparkling with sapphire stones. Lydeth was in a green and pink gown, framed with white and studded with glittering diamonds, which obscured the terrible color pairing by blinding anyone who looked at her. There was such a thing, he mused, as being _too _dazzling.

The castle hung with numerous flower garlands and ribbons, and the wedding itself took place inside. It was depressingly long and boring, and judging from Adris' expression, the King of Avarok was not too thrilled either. Some of the young ladies stared with wide eyes at Lydeth's dress, while older mothers made faces and whispered to their husbands. Fortunately, the newlyweds were so preoccupied with themselves that they did not notice, while their parents silently critiqued their children-in-laws, as if a wedding ceremony were an adequate test of character.

The time came to offer congratulations, which Arthur did as was due, and they dispersed for the grand reception consisting of fine meats spiced with herbs imported from the East, a splendid collection of fine wines, rich cake and other pastries, coupled to music and dancing. Once again, Arthur took care to sit between King Adris and Prince Theodore, especially since he was trying to avoid Queen Talia and her daughter Rosalind, along with all the other guests he simply could not suffer any longer.

Unfortunately, at some point between Arthur's arrival and the day of the wedding, Adris seemed to have received some sort of advice from his advisor, because he suddenly developed an uncomfortably keen interest in Arthur's resident healer.

"Just how old is she?"

"I have absolutely no idea."

"You do not know your own healer's age?"

"She is hardly _my _healer," Arthur wondered what Adris was trying to dig for. "All I know is that she is younger than me."

"Younger than you? And unmarried? That is unusual."

"Well, she hardly needs to get married. She can support herself quite well on her own, her livelihood hardly depends on it, so I would assume she feels no hurry."

"I see. That makes sense. Though women do tend to have a desire to find someone, I think."

"You think they would if it weren't necessary?" Theodore asked as he chewed, which was not very genteel, but he could be forgiven in this case since he had to time his question.

"What do you mean?" Adris asked.

Arthur turned his attention to his meal while the two men discussed whether women would want to get married or have children if society did not pressure them to. Somehow the topic went from that to weapons.

"You might as well just hit with a stick," Adris declared, "After all, a few blows with the sword and it gets blunt. Most fights consist of pushing each other with our bucklers. You try to avoid using the sword most of the time. If it were me, I would charge into battle with a club or a mace."

"I agree with you," Said Theodore, "I do not understand why people even like swords, it has such a narrow range of use, and requires so much maintenance."

"Is there some kind of spell, I wonder, that would prevent a blade from going blunt?"

"Hm?" Arthur blinked as he drank from his goblet, when he realized this question was being directed towards him.

"Has Healer Emrys ever forged a sword that is always sharp?"

"…" _What is he digging for? _Arthur wondered if he would rather put up with Queen Talia. "Merlin's a healer." No need to reveal Excalibur. "She was never fond of swords, or anything…manly." Which made a lot of sense, considering she was never a man.

"Hohoho!" Theodore chuckled, but did not actually explain why he was laughing.

King Dralkor stood up, announcing a toast to his in-laws, which prompted everyone to stop their discussion to listen to him and drink with him.

A dance followed, which Arthur tried to sit out, but the others managed to drag him into it. It was actually quite enjoyable, and he was able to dance in a group rather than with a particular girl, which negated any potential awkwardness. In the end, he actually found himself interested in one young lady, a girl of about nineteen whom he had never spoken to before. Lady Renel, with wavy brown hair and green eyes and a soft-spoken temperament. She was not aggressive with seeking attention like others, nor was she shy, and her mannerisms reminded Arthur greatly of Gwen.

The reception lasted late into the night, and continued after the bride and groom retired. Theodore was quite drunk at this point, though fortunately he was still rather graceful when inebriated. Arthur went out to the balcony with Renel where they talked about nonsense he could not even remember, but he made a mental note to investigate her further, and she seemed to do the same.

"Ready to go home, Sire?" Percival asked, when they all retreated to their guest chambers for the night. Since they were up late, Arthur intended to set off for Camelot later in the morning, but the plan was to depart immediately, as he had been here long enough for paperwork to pile up. "Perhaps we might pay her ladyship a visit at some point."

"Insolent rascal," Arthur whacked Percival on the shoulder, "Were you spying on me?"

"I know not what you mean, Sire."

"Cheeky." Arthur was in good spirits, however. He had not suspected to find a suitable candidate for a wife, and surprises of this nature were always quite pleasant. "See that you rest up tonight. I want no delays tomorrow."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

* * *

><p>In the morning, many of the kings, princes, and lords were absent, having departed after the reception rather than staying overnight. Arthur broke his fast with the remaining lords and ladies, with King Dralkor hosting with the newlyweds. King Adris was among the company, though anxious to leave, while Prince Theodore elected to sleep through the meal.<p>

"How long is the journey home, Arthur-King?" Lady Renel asked.

"A few days," Arthur replied, "Not too long, but I still should get going, since there are plenty of affairs waiting for my attention by now."

"I am sure," Said Renel, "I should like to visit Camelot at some point, I think. I hear so many things about it, and now that the greatest sorceress of all time lives there—do you suppose I might get to meet her?"

"I see no reason why not." Provided, of course, that Arthur asked nicely, but Merlin was hardly unreasonable in this regard, and if Renel were to become his Queen—it was too early to say, but he really had a good feeling about her—then he needed Merlin to make sure she was not secretly a troll, or some fae, or some other manner of being trying to bewitch him in order to take over Camelot. Arthur would like to think that his judgment were not so abominable, but he was going to take advantage of being able to confirm his choices nonetheless. It would do Renel good, too, to know how to deal with the sorceress.

"What about you?" He asked Renel, "Are you going directly home after this?"

"Oh, I am actually heading to Gaul," Renel sighed.

"Gaul?" Arthur blinked. "Unusual place to go."

"Well, when I was a child, I came down with an ailment no one could explain. Gaul had a particular class of druids, and my father took me there in the hopes that they might help me. From what I could understand," Renel paused, "They could only contain the illness, not eliminate it. I must return to Gaul to that same circle of druids every ten years, in order to preserve my health."

"What happens if you don't?" Arthur asked, astonished.

"I get…well, sick." Renel glanced at the palms of her hands. "Herbs around here would slow the illness down, but not stop its progression. From what I could remember, I had a slow but steadily rising fever, and by the time I arrived in Gaul it had gone almost high enough to damage my sight and hearing. Fortunately, the spirits were with me, and we found the druids just in time."

Arthur tilted his head. "Do you suppose Merlin—Healer Emrys, might help you the same way those druids did?"

"I am sure she might have something, but I am nearing the date," Renel replied, "Otherwise, I would ask to come to Camelot with you, but I cannot afford to lose the time should she not have what I need, you see."

"Is it so exact?"

She lowered her head sheepishly. "Unfortunately it is."

"Well," Arthur leaned back, "When you return from Gaul, do be sure to stop by Camelot. I am certain Healer Emrys would be delighted to help you, if she can."

Renel smiled. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

* * *

><p>Back in Camelot, Arthur told Pollux, discretely, that he did in fact find someone who might be suitable.<p>

"Gaul?" His advisor exclaimed, "Are you sure you want to pursue a lady with this type of affliction? Every ten years she would have to go to Gaul. That means if there is any animosity at all between Camelot and the Gallic nations, it would have to be resolved within that ten-year window. That is quite a leverage over us, if I may say so."

Arthur, naturally, had already thought about that, as unromantic as it was. He spent most of the journey home pondering on ways around it. One obvious way was if Merlin were to be capable of doing what the Gallic druids were, which was ideal. It would be nice if she could just cure Renel altogether—and there was certainly no reason she could not, other than perhaps her relative youth. Maybe she could even go spy on the Gallic druids—druids in Gaul were notoriously secretive about their practices, and it would not come as a surprise to Arthur that their methods were doable but just unknown. Someone like Merlin, who had frankly made a career out of sneaking around back when she had been his manservant, ought to penetrate their circles with no problem. He would rather not ask that particular favor of her, however—that felt like too insidious a request for someone who wanted an honest, proud career as a healer.

"Nothing has been settled, I have not proposed nor sent gifts, I have merely extended her an invitation to come to Camelot to visit Merlin once she is seen to by the druids in Gaul. I've spoken to her for all of maybe three hours in total, I can hardly base my decision on that, and at another's wedding banquet, no less."

"Hmph!" Pollux returned, looking very dissatisfied, but relenting. "I suppose we shall see how she suits Camelot's atmosphere, Your Majesty."

"Or how Camelot suits her." Arthur rolled his eyes. "Being only a young Lady, she might not want the attention a Queen of Camelot would generate." Too many people were interested in Camelot for all the wrong reasons. Honestly, if Arthur did not love his kingdom so, he would trade it for one that was less conspicuous.

Gwen was very happy to see him, announcing that her husband had returned from his mission.

"Seltor is in the dungeons," Said Gwen, "They are waiting for you to preside his trial."

"I'll do that tomorrow." No need to address the scumbag immediately, especially when Arthur still wanted to catch his breath from his travel. "Where _is _Lancelot anyway?"

"Topaz got sick on the way back, so Lancelot is with him and the animal doctor" Topaz was Lancelot's horse, one that Arthur had _just _given him too. The King's eyebrows dropped.

"Really? He broke _another _horse?" And not even in a good way. "Every year. You realize these mounts are supposed to last longer than that?"

"You know Lancelot. He only worked with mules and donkeys when he was growing up, which _are _hardier."

"Next time, I guess I should give him a war _mule_ instead of a war horse," Arthur was annoyed. Gwen, not offended, only chuckled a little at this.

Lancelot did show up later, while Arthur was taking a bath in a tub.

"This time it was not my fault. We got caught in the rain, and somehow Topaz took a chill. None of the other horses got sick!"

"Right," Arthur drawled, "You have some bad-luck charm about you and horses, Lancelot. When horses come near you, they just…_twist their legs _or _fall sick _or _wind up with stones in their shoes_, which puzzles me greatly because don't mules also wear shoes?"

"…Uh, no."

"…Mules don't wear shoes?" On occasions like these, Arthur had a real sense that he was far removed from the common folk of society by nature of his breeding. "Huh."

"Honestly, I might prefer a war mule, set a trend," Lancelot said dryly. Obviously, Gwen found Arthur's threat amusing enough to share with him. "They are bigger, they live longer, they have more endurance, and I am _absolutely certain _they are smarter than horses."

"We don't want smart mounts! We want _obedient_ mounts. Good luck riding a mule to a war zone, Lancelot. Half the reason horses are such good mounts for battle is because they are so _stupid._"

"And high-maintenance," Lancelot sniffed, "Speaking of high-maintenance, you should have seen what we pilfered from Seltor's mansion, in addition to the captives."

Arthur's stomach dropped. "Gold?"

"Mountains of it. All in his cellars. Gold, and jewels. We brought them back in the wagons that we also took from his property. I found some nice jewelry that I think Gwen would like very much, but I'm waiting for you to go through them. I'm not actually sure what you intend to do."

"It depends on how much jewelry," Arthur groaned, anger bubbling in his gut at the thought of the vermin as one of his own vassals, "I might prefer to use them to pay the hostages he had, as well as reserve them for rehabilitation efforts, or even rescue efforts. There is no telling how many slaves he had sold before he was caught, maybe they might be of use to buy them back."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Lancelot nodded, looking like he already expected as much. With his peasant origins, Arthur found, Lancelot had a deeper appreciation for luxurious items than other knights who came from noble families, which explained why his first thought was to give his wife gifts from the plunder, but Lancelot was a good man, and he would have thought of the same thing Arthur had thought of. This did bring to mind, however, "Where are the wagons kept? Are they being guarded?"

"We actually have them kept in one of the food caches to prevent robberies. Four soldiers are guarding them at all times, and checked for theft when they switch shifts. I have a list of how much plunder we actually have."

"And the captives, they are being seen to by…" This was odd to say, but "Merlin's clinic?"

"At least her druids. They are not actually _at _the clinic, some of them were in a bad way, and the druids wanted to keep them away from the general populace for a while. You know how people are."

Arthur rubbed his eyes with a wet hand. _A spectacle. A horrifying one, but still a spectacle. _"Any of the captives _not _from Camelot?"

"Without a doubt, but we have not gone ahead to identifying them yet."

"This is going to be a foreign relations nightmare," Arthur shook his head.

* * *

><p>Scouts reported that Orlingoth was getting anxious about Beronat's walls—if that was what King Eldwin was trying to do, then he was very successful. To defend against any malicious plots, Orlingoth started building up their own military, which incited a lot of concern from the surrounding territories. Camelot was being called upon to intervene in some way. Arthur could not be more disinterested when he had Seltor's prisoners to worry about.<p>

"You are in charge," He told Lancelot, "Of supervising the welfare of these captives. Find out their identities and where they came from. I want these logs to be kept quiet, however; I want to be the first to know the whole picture."

"But if I'm managing Seltor, who's going to manage Beronat?"

"I actually want Sir Elyan to go. I don't need a strong arm for this particular dispute, I need a good diplomat, and Elyan has been to both Beronat and Orlingoth in his travels."

Pollux felt this decision was sound. Gwen was unhappy with this.

"Must you send him away when he's _just _returned?" She sighed, "I see little of my brother as it is!"

"He will be back in no time," Arthur promised, "I do not intend for Camelot to be too immersed. This is none of Camelot's business, after all. It is only important if one of them launches an attack, which I am confident Elyan will do his utmost to prevent."

He gave Elyan instructions on how to represent Camelot.

"We support neither side," He told Elyan, "It is important you remember that. You are not allowed to appear biased toward either kingdom, and be clear that if the two erupt into war, Camelot will not extend our highways to them."

Sir Elyan departed for Beronat, and Arthur arranged for Seltor's trial to take place after Lancelot finished his catalogs, giving him time to address all the other paperwork that had accumulated while he was away and letting the villain rot in the cells for as long as possible. Give him a taste of his own medicine. Gwen was still a bit miffed about him sending her brother away, but she sat with him while he did his paperwork because her husband was with the druids, doing her own needlework and asking about Renel.

"I don't understand all this paranoia," She admitted to him, "There have been many rulers who suffered from ill health now and again, and I have a hard time imagining there is anything others can do that Merlin can't. I would say, let her character determine your decision, not her health."

"I need an heir," Arthur pointed out, "And I should not like to resort to what my father did in order to sire me."

"I'm sure all things will work out for the best."

Gwen was very good at giving meaningless assurances, but she was also good at making them reassuring. Arthur found himself feeling comforted despite all logic.

"She reminds me of you, you know," He told her, "At the very least, I think we can become good friends."

"You do not lack friends, Your Majesty," Gwen teased, "But that is good to hear. Merlin and I have always gotten along. No doubt the two of them will as well. Any queen you choose will have to get use to her, after all. It might even be more important than getting use to you."

_And sometimes, Gwen is just unusually insightful._ For a moment, Arthur allowed himself to feel a bit of regret, to pine after what might have been. If Gwen had just been a little more worldly, a little more willing to learn—she had so much innate wisdom already, it was such a shame. Yet he had to concede that complacent Gwen would not be happy as a Queen. She was a follower, not a leader, not one who would thrive in being in control, even benevolently. She was happy with Lancelot.

"It's funny how everyone needs to get use to Merlin, Merlin has to get use to others too, you know. It's not exactly a one-way relationship," Arthur observed.

"Ah yes," Said Gwen, "But Merlin does not _have _to tolerate others, not when she can throw fireballs at them. To be frank," And she said this with much more caution, "She doesn't even have to tolerate you, if you end up being a tyrant."

That was one thing that had puzzled Arthur a great deal over the years. "She certainly did not have to tolerate my father either. I wonder why she did."

"She's Merlin," Gwen shrugged, then grinned playfully, "Magic isn't the only thing that made her _magical_. We all knew that."

"Hm." Something about Gwen's words made the back of his mind tingle, but he could not fathom why. "Well, let's see if Renel finds her as magical as the rest of Camelot." _And I really hope Renel is not a troll._


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**A/N: **A short chapter, apologies, will post another asap :P

* * *

><p>Lady of Magic<p>

Chapter Thirteen

When Merlin next woke, she was somewhere she did not recognize. A vast chamber, held upright by marble pillars, flickered in the dim torchlight. It did not appear to be a bedroom, but she was on a canopied bed, and near it was a large desk with papers and bottles scattered on top, a container for quills and several large crystal orbs.

There was no one nearby, nor were there windows. The chamber darkened as it stretched away from her, but she saw steps going down, as if she were on a stage, and there was a faint smell of flowers and herbs mixed with mold. The air was damp, and she could hear dripping water.

"Gwaine?" She dared to call, "Roskin?"

No answer.

Merlin slid off the bed, noting that she was wearing her healer garb. She had no shoes, however, and after a few seconds of searching, opted to continue barefoot. The ground was carpeted with soft rugs that were amazingly dry compared to the humid air.

"Hello?" She called out again. "Is anyone there?"

Her voice echoed, rebounding from the walls, but there was no answer.

_Great…_She looked around again, noting bookshelves now, with little figurines of animals and fairies, some tomes, a portrait of…

Merlin froze. That was…strange. The portrait was a standard life-size, depicting a regal-looking woman who looked…oddly, like herself. Not entirely so—paintings were rarely so accurate, but the distinct cheekbones, the intense blue eyes, were all there. In the painting, black hair curled around to obscure the ears, but the figure was clad in rich velvets studded with pearls and gold from the East. Her eyes were cast slightly downward, as if presiding over an audience from a higher point. On her head was a headdress glimmering with precious stones. A scepter extended from her hand, which hung by elbows resting against the armrest of a throne.

There were others, now that Merlin noticed the first. None of them looked _precisely _like her, but they bore a chilling resemblance. They all featured her in different personas; the one next to the first showed her in plainer garb, a hood over her head and a staff that looked about as polished as a newly-yanked tree root. She looked diagonally ahead as she walked. The forest provided the backdrop, lush and green, and the central figure gazed out at her with defiance.

There was one showing her on horseback, clad in armor that seemed to accentuate her slender form, but her hair was loose and free about her and her eyes gazed at something in the distance. A staff gleamed as she raised it from her side, the other hand pulling the reins. Another portrait showed her in leather armor instead, much of her face turned away, hair braided under her cap. Fire raged in the background, interspersed with smoke, and in the dark smog were figures of people running, falling, arms covering their heads and their loved ones.

Other portraits were even stranger; one showed her in black robes with eyes flashing gold and an expression frighteningly similar to Morgana's. Another showed her in a rocking chair by a window, cradling a bundle in her arms and gazing down tenderly as a tiny hand reached up for her face. The oddest one showed her floating above a lake covered in mist, her own features slightly obscured but her body only a silhouette, showing only the outline of her very apparently unclothed figure.

Unnerved, Merlin stepped away from the pictures, wondering what manner of a lunatic would take the time to draw her in all these different personas. Possibly the same kind that would abduct her—where was she anyway?

_Swoosh._ Something dark wafted across the chamber below the steps. Merlin whirled around, magic coiled and ready to be unleashed…but there was no one there.

"Hello?" She tried again. "Who is there?"

Silence.

"Selene? Paris?" Merlin frowned. "Phaedrus?"

The tomes on the bookshelves did not seem to be written in any language she knew. It certainly did not look Culacian either. The place did not feel like Culacia either—did not have its golden style nor its oriental look.

Maybe she had been kidnapped.

"Crestathion!" She called out, "If it's you, I swear…" Power gathered at her fingertips, but she had nothing to unleash it against. The ceiling, maybe? She could blast her way out of here.

"The issue with you," Mordred's voice was a complete shock as he turned out of a path Merlin had not even seen to emerge in the central chamber, "Is that you have no common sense when dealing with these sort of things."

He had not looked like a boy the last time she had seen him, so it was no surprise that this time he looked no younger, broad shoulders lifting under his draped robes and face chiseled by manhood. He was elegantly slender, and would not look like a warrior, except he carried a sword hanging from his belt, and in his left hand was a shield, which he slid carelessly over the papers on the table.

Merlin was speechless for a moment. To make up for it, she uttered, "I see you're doing better than the last time we crossed paths."

Mordred's expression tightened briefly, but he seemed to discard the comment after a while. "How can I not? I was treated by the great _Healer Emrys._"

He lifted his sword from his belt, setting it next to the shield. Merlin watched him silently for a moment.

"Did you bring me here?"

An odd glint flashed in his eyes as he looked up at her. He stepped so that he could lean back against the table, folding his arms.

"We," He said silkily, "Need to talk."

* * *

><p>One moment, Gwaine was taking a swig of water, and the next moment he was on the floor, head pounding something <em>awful<em>. He let out a groan before thinking better of it.

"Ah, the knight wakes at last."

Gwaine snapped his head violently at the sound, almost giving himself whiplash. A stranger he did not recognize sat near a large dining table that was empty save for a large pitcher and several mugs.

"Who the bugger are you?" He demanded, his voice coming out in a croak. _Where is Merlin?_

The man reached forward to take the pitcher and poured into one of the mugs. "I," He explained as he did this, "Am Crestathion. No need to introduce yourself; I am perfectly aware of who you are."

Gwaine cursed mentally. "What have you done with Merlin?"

Crestathion was not an old-looking man. Gwaine was not sure why he thought the sorcerer would be _old_, exactly, since all he had known was that he was powerful and not someone to be messed with, but Merlin was a good example of why power did not correlate with age. Still, Crestathion was young, probably as young as Merlin, though his eyes held a sinister light that when illuminated from the right angle, made him appear much older than he was.

"_I _have done nothing with Merlin," Said Crestathion, "And I know, you do not have her. That bratling took her from right under my nose. I will give him credit. He is well-worthy of his destiny as the Bane of Camelot."

It took a moment for Gwaine's throbbing head to process everything. "Mordred?"

Crestathion let out a bark of laughter. "Knew some of you are sharp! Now, he and I normally get along quite well, but this will not do. And unlike your fair healer, _he _does not stay in one place, which means it is somewhat frustrating—though not _impossible—_and not even _hard_, really, to smoke him out, but frustrating, and since you and your fellow knight—" Gwaine noticed that Roskin was still unconscious near him, also on the floor with a giant bump on his scalp; Gwaine imagined he sported a similar appendage—"are kind enough to be present, I have an idea that would make retrieving her much _less _aggravating."

Gwaine glared. "Right. You count on a pair of non-magical knights to do your work. Are you sure your spells are up to par?"

The magical blow he got to the face for that remark was not a _complete _surprise, but he had not expected that either, and it increased his headache ten-fold.

"See, the plan is simple," Crestathion went on as if nothing untoward had happened, "Mordred wants Arthur dead and I want Emrys, who happens to be in Mordred's custody. You and your friend will head back to Camelot and tell Arthur that he needs to seek Mordred—see, this will be easier done than said, even, because Mordred _wants _Arthur out and about—and if he does not cooperate, what is happening in Culacia will happen to Camelot."

_But Merlin already cured…unless…_" What is happening in Culacia?"

Crestathion sneered. "They ran out of clay. Pity that only the great Healer Emrys can create the substitute for silver squirrels." He shook his head. "Pity indeed."

* * *

><p>Merlin scowled. "Were you responsible for the <em>Duo Petrification<em>?"

"No," Mordred said instantly, "You have to admit, that is not my style."

"I actually have no idea what your style is," Merlin sneered, "Because frankly, _you _hardly seem to know what you're doing."

Surprisingly, Mordred did not choose to take offense. "You are playing a dangerous game, Emrys."

"Am I? And what game is that, exactly?"

"There are a lot of eyes watching you, Emrys. They have always been watching you, you just never paid attention."

"Like you? Well, I guess I can't help that. Creeps will be creeps, after all."

He was suddenly right in front of her, and Merlin almost summoned her magic, but he did not touch her.

"You and I both know your nature, Emrys. Once you commit to something, you will never stray. I am warning you now: if you commit to Camelot, no one will give you the benefit of a doubt, especially not me."

"You made that abundantly clear before."

"You do not know my power, Emrys."

Merlin leaned close so they were almost upon each other. Magic coiled in her, turning her eyes gold, and she could feel them burn from the inside as she glared at him.

"You know what the difference between you and me is?" She whispered, letting the chamber amplify it so it was almost a hiss, "It is not that I support Camelot while you do not. I choose my destiny. You let it rule you."

He smirked scornfully. "You _think _you choose, Emrys."

"Perhaps," She said in a level voice, "But _you _do not even _think_. You blindly _believe_. That head of yours is good for nothing."

She released her magic.

* * *

><p>"You underestimate us," Gwaine scowled. How did they even get into this room? There were no doors that he could see. "Merlin has dealt with Mordred before, and you are certainly not the first sorcerer to threaten Camelot."<p>

"I suppose I shall have to learn my lesson, then," Crestathion said casually. He lifted one of the mugs. "I heard the great Sir Gwaine has a fondness for Amber ale. Am I wrong?"

Gwaine looked warily at the pitcher. "Only when the mood suits me."

"Ah, my apologies."

The sorcerer snapped his fingers, and suddenly Gwaine was _parched._ His mouth ran dry and it almost hurt to swallow. Drinking anything, even poison, seemed like an incomparable luxury.

"Come along," Crestathion pointed out, "Drink your fill. I have more need of you two alive than dead, after all, and you two have a long journey back to Camelot."

Despite himself, Gwaine found his feet moving toward the table, and his hand reaching for his mug of its own accord.

"What have you done to Culacia?" He demanded, even as he drew the mug to him. "They did nothing to you."

"Of course not. If we all waited for the other side to act first, sooner or later it would be too late."

"But if your target is Camelot, why bother with Culacia at all?"

"You do not think I would trust Arthur and his merry knights to handle someone like Mordred on his own, do you?" Crestathion laughed as if the suggestion were ludicrous. "No, Culacia has its uses, but the Queen has a mind of her own sometimes. Emrys is my main priority, why chance failure with one kingdom when I can summon the might of two? Simple as that. More ale?"

Gwaine had his mug out even as he thought to refuse, and Crestathion cheerfully poured out the liquid.

"Your partner there has a weak skull," The sorcerer noted. Roskin was still passed out. "If he does not wake up soon, the ale will run out. Oh well, more for the two of us, I think. Best drink your fill, Sir Gwaine. You two both have quite a journey ahead of you."

Gwaine downed his drink, and his blood simmered at being manipulated like this. Once they rescue Merlin, he was going to ask her for some kind of spell to protect against this sort of thing. Especially for Arthur.

After he cuts off this bastard's head.

* * *

><p>When the light from the spell died down, Mordred was nowhere to be seen.<p>

Merlin snarled, looking around, eyes still burning and certainly still gold, but there was no sign of the man. The chamber was empty.

"Mordred!" She yelled, her voice bouncing off the walls eerily, "Mordred, show yourself, you fiend!"

No answer.

She raised the torchlights to illuminate more of the place. If the sorcerer chose to hide himself, she was going to use this time to find a way out of here. The path leading from the steps went a little further away, and Merlin hurried to it to see where it went.

It banked and wound around to—a dead end.

_What is this?_ How did Mordred even get her in here without an entrance? She looked up and then down, looking for some sign of a door or anything that might lead away from here.

Nothing. She even tried throwing some spells, but the walls absorbed the magic without any effect at all.

_You still have much to learn, young sorceress. _The voice was not Mordred's, but she had no idea who else could have spoken those words in her mind.

Merlin scowled. Young she might have been when she was Arthur's manservant, but women her age have had multiple children already. She was no longer _young._ _The brat._

"What is this genius plan of yours, Mordred?" She asked out loud, "Lock me in here so you can have a free path to Camelot? You hardly needed to wait this long, you know! I _was _gone for five years!"

Silence ensued. She slammed a hand against the rock walls, turning around. Maybe the exit was elsewhere. Behind one of the portraits? Maybe even under the bed. She hurried back.

Turn, bank, and the stage where the table and bed was loomed with the bright light of the torches she had enhanced earlier.

Merlin stopped short, nearly screaming.

All of the portraits had shifted. Their faces were raised so their eyes stared right at her. Even the ones where she was supposed to be facing away had turned around.

She whirled around and hid behind a wall, heart hammering in her chest.

That was the creepiest thing she had ever seen.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**A/N: **Another short one, but at least it was fast! ;)

* * *

><p>Lady of Magic<p>

Chapter Fourteen

Shortly after Arthur sentenced Seltor to execution, he received a missive from King Adris with a bizarre inquiry.

"Why is that suspicious?" Gwen asked, as she mixed a gruel for Lancelot's still-ailing horse.

"Well first of all, Adris told me before the wedding that he was heading to Talthorn, presumably to visit Princess Rowan." Arthur stared at her for a moment. "You really should get a _real _servant to do this, Gwen."

"What do you mean, a _real _servant?"

Marrying a knight automatically elevated Gwen to ladyship status. Ladies could still conduct many duties of a lady-in-waiting, but they consisted of far more sanitary and less strenuous tasks than making food for horses. Gwen, strangely enough, seemed affronted whenever Arthur suggested she should stop doing what she had done all her life. Arthur knew it was because Gwen was defiant about her past; she did not want to think of her upbringing as something to be ashamed of and cast away at the first opportunity.

Still, those velvet sleeves were _not _going to stay unstained forever, especially if Gwen stubbornly does these kind of chores all day.

"Either do that," he compromised, "Or change out of that outfit. The contrast is _disturbing_."

Gwen gave him a look that was thankfully more amused than offended. "Plans change," She continued the conversation where they left off, "Perhaps Talthorn cannot quite receive him, and he wants to take a look at Camelot's highways in the meantime."

"If he were actually interested in the highways, which I doubt he is," Arthur followed her lead, "First of all, the longer Adris remains outside, the more paperwork he will accumulate."

"Maybe he is a procrastinator, unlike you."

"And," Arthur went on, "What highways would he build? Unlike Camelot, Avarok is in the middle of nowhere."

"Perhaps building highways will make it more accessible."

"The money does not add up. He would devote more resources than he can handle, all to something that may not even be profitable. Everyone knows Camelot is already the better site. It makes no sense." Arthur glared at Gwen's expression. "_Yes. _I do _math_."

"I said nothing, Sire."

"No, but your thoughts speak for themselves. Adris is not visiting Camelot to 'look at highways for inspiration'. He wants to meet Merlin, and I cannot fathom what for."

Normally, this was something Arthur would ask Pollux, but Pollux had pled leave for a few days due to being a little under the weather. The man was normally a hard worker, so the King granted it without much haggling.

"What makes you think he wants to meet Merlin, and why is that so bemusing?"

"He was asking me about her all throughout the breakfast after the wedding. Such peculiar questions too, like how old she was—what does he care? And going out of his way just to see Healer Emrys when he had all that paperwork back home?"

"Well, he _was _due to Talthorn, and if that plan went awry, he now has several extra days with nothing to do. What better time than now, to fulfill his curiosity? Plus, looking at highways cannot hurt. He knows he is not competition for Camelot, so declaring it openly is harmless enough."

"There is something more to this," Arthur insisted. Everything Gwen mentioned made sense, and by all appearances there was nothing to indicate shady intentions, but…"I feel it in my bones. There is something off about the whole thing."

"Well can you refuse without seeming like a complete prat?"

"Of course I can. I can state some reason or other to delay his visit. The highways are nowhere near presentable, at any rate. If his motives are innocent enough, I have no compunction allowing him to view to his pleasure, but I need time to sort this out. Besides, Merlin is not even here." Arthur paused. "Though I would not go as far as to announce that openly."

People probably knew. Merlin's departure was not flamboyant, but neither was it quiet. News would have spread by word-of-mouth that the healer had departed on her medical missions. Still, news traveled slowly this way, and there was no reason for Arthur to confirm that she had not yet returned.

"I wonder if he abandoned Talthorn to pursue Merlin," Gwen remarked thoughtfully.

Arthur blinked. "I don't follow."

"I mean, he was asking about her age," She pointed out, "You must have told him that she was unmarried."

Arthur stared for a moment. The idea that men would want to marry _Mer_lin had _never _occurred to him. Ever. "That is ludicrous. Why would he want to marry _Merlin?_"

Gwen glared. "And why _wouldn't_ he? Merlin is nubile."

"…But—she is a _sorceress!"_

"That is no stranger than marrying a servant."

Arthur swore despite himself. "Sorry," He said quickly to the lady. "That conniving son of a—!"

* * *

><p>"I thought you were interested in that Gallic lady, Sire" Lancelot said in confusion.<p>

Arthur whacked the dummy, nearly spitting with effort. "She is not _Gallic, _she is _going _to Gallic _druids_ for some mystery illness that only they can cure."

"Same difference. So Avarok matches with Emrys who, at the very least, would not want _harm _to befall Camelot. One can forge a strong alliance."

Arthur's irritation channeled Gwaine's influence. "My grandfather's withered _manhood_ a 'strong alliance', who does he think he is? His spine might as well be made of water, he sags away when you _blow _at him, and he thinks he can match _Merlin?__"_

"Well…not everyone can have the same spine as the King of Camelot."

"—And what is Avarok, anyway? Some tiny gnat-country in the middle of nowhere—"

"Not every country can be as fine as Camelot, Your Majesty—"

"And after establishing her clinic here, where she has access to patients from all over Albion, why would she want to go there? She wouldn't!"

"Uh…I think this is something that is really Merlin's to decide—"

"Of course it is, Lancelot." Whack. "She is an intelligent woman, and has been independent for so long. Why would she want to answer to a king like Adris? It is ludicrous."

"Well, she _is _defiant in that regard—"

"And really, people like Adris should only find women who are content to be nothing."

"Well that's a little harsh, Sire, he _is _still a king of a kingdom—"

"Even _Renel _would suit him better than Merlin. Really, Merlin would give him a run—I would be doing him a favor by refusing to let him come at all."

"That really does not sound like letting Merlin be the one to decide—"

"Really, Healer Emrys has far better things to do than entertain the pathetic attempts of every interested bloke."

"I am sure that is true, Sire, but Adris isn't exactly just any bloke—"

Arthur suddenly froze. "Heaven preserve me. You don't suppose there are _others?__"_

"…What?"

"All the bachelors at the banquet," Arthur reflected on the meals and the various conversations. He swore. Lancelot winced, rubbing his ears.

"Me and my big mouth! I should have nipped it in the bud! Those rascals all have it in their heads now! Son of a—"

"Your Majesty," Lancelot interrupted, "You hardly seemed this worked up about Lady Renel—"

"If _any _of them gets Merlin, do you have any idea what that would mean for Camelot?"

"Right," Lancelot muttered, voice dripping with sardonism. "_That's _what this is about."

"It's ridiculous! 'Two sides of the same coin'. She can't leave Camelot. She can't leave _me._ Hare-brained knaves, why I ought to—"

Lancelot looked vaguely intrigued by that. "You heard the phrase 'two sides of the same coin' and it never occurred to you…?"

Arthur broke off. "What?"

"I mean, granted none of us thought of that either, but…"

"Thought of _what?_"

"'_Two sides_ of the _same coin_?'"

Arthur's gaze flattened. "_Yes_, some quote from the druids, it's not helpful to keep repeating the same sentence over and over again, Sir _Lanc_elot."

"You never thought Merlin would get married one day?"

Arthur was in a ridiculous mood, so his response was equally so. "Of course not! Why in Heaven's name would Merlin get married?"

"Why wouldn't she?"

"Well for one thing, if she were to get married she would marry a—" Cute servant girl…which was not quite true because Merlin was a girl herself—Arthur sometimes still had trouble reconciling his old impressions of his manservant with the healing woman in the present. "Not some snobby noble!"

"Well that's probably true," Lancelot allowed, "But Adris is hardly _snobby_, you've said so yourself—"

"And she wants to build her identity. Hardly conducive to that, being someone's _wife!_"

"Well that's not necessarily true, Sire—"

"Plus, Merlin, _married?_ Merlin is not supposed to be married!"

"Why not?"

"Because she's Merlin!"

"Shouldn't you let _her _decide?"

"Of course, but she's not supposed to be married!"

"That does not sound like letting Merlin decide…"

"Are you questioning me?" Arthur glared.

Lancelot looked incredibly perplexed. "So wait, you could think of marrying Lady Renel, but Merlin is out of the question?"

Something important about that remark flew completely over Arthur's head.

"Of course it is out of the question!" He dumped his shield on the ground, his practice sword following after. "Merlin belongs in Camelot! She and I are two sides of the same coin! If anyone challenges that, I will have his head! No one is allowed to marry Merlin!"

Lancelot waited a few seconds, but Arthur was stumping away from the courtyard, still channeling Gwaine and cursing to himself.

"Merlin will _never _marry if I have anything to say about it!"

Lancelot threw up his hands. "That certainly seems like it."

* * *

><p>"What do you suppose is keeping him in denial?"<p>

"I'll let you know once I discovered all the secrets between Heaven and Earth."

"It is almost as if the idea were so outrageous that he cannot grasp even the shadow of it," Gwen mused, "Though I suppose…I mean, we were all rocked off our feet when Merlin turned out to be a girl, so I guess some part of Arthur is still use to her being a boy instead? Do you think that could be it?"

Her husband shrugged, cutting a slice of steak. "Frankly, I would almost consider that he was bewitched. I have not seen such blatant blindness from him since _Uther _was still King. Some curse, perhaps, to keep him and Merlin apart, so Camelot never reaches its full glory. The druids rejected the idea, however. They said there were more subtle ways of doing it, and Arthur certainly wouldn't be flying off the hinges in blatant jealousy. He was like a raving lunatic at practice earlier today, you should have seen him."

"Oh, he would not stop swearing in my presence."

"I would go as far as to say that he was even more mental about Adris than he had been about me when the two of us were vying for your hand. No offense, my love."

"None taken. So no spell, then?"

"No magical one, anyway. They did say that his mind might have conjured up its own tricks to bar the idea. And your comment about some part of him still adamantly believing Merlin to be a boy might have some merit. 'Two sides of the same coin' has a totally different connotation to it if Merlin were a boy, doesn't it?"

"i don't think I was ever comfortable with the idea of her being a girl instead," Gwen admitted, "Not until she came in the flesh again. I knew, I mean, the facts were there, but it just never sank in until I saw her as a healer. The mind is a mysterious thing."

"None of us thought anything of it until we saw her, anyway," Lancelot agreed. "Though even when she did, she was so cold to everyone, we did not think it would happen."

"She warmed up quickly enough. She had hardly been here long enough to form any conclusions. Do you suppose we should point out that _he _could marry Merlin and do away with the rest of this nonsense?"

Lancelot sighed. "We have no doubts about _his _feelings, but—I don't know about you, but I'm not sure about Merlin. I don't want him to entertain this notion if she does not return them at all."

"That is true," Gwen agreed, "Perhaps the best course is to steer him away from these feelings, but before we settle on that, I think I can help determine for sure. Women tell each other things they would never share with men. I can see if I can't gauge her feelings on the matter. He is still pursuing Lady Renel?"

"I have absolutely no idea. He practically volunteered her to Adris instead. Of course, he was also completely out of his mind, so it's really hard to say."

"…Oh my. Well, I doubt Renel would be a smart choice, then." Gwen frowned at this. "I will need to have a talk with him. That is improper. Handing women about like we are nothing but property, even with words…I prefer his foul mouth over that."

"Don't take it personally, dear heart. Once Merlin, Gwaine, and Roskin return, I'll tell Gwaine to teach Arthur more oaths so that Arthur has more productive ways of venting his temper."

Gwen used the end of her fork to tap Lancelot's bicep in a mock-blow, lips quirking. "You are diabolical, my husband. What kind of image would that present, to have our King utter a long train of colorful words every time he gets angry?"

"A hilarious one, for the rest of us. See? More productive."

After Gwen regained her composure, she went on, "Well, we will assume he is still 'interested' in Renel, and I will relate it as such to Merlin when she returns. I am actually not sure if I want her to be as absurd as Arthur, but at least we do not lose either way."

"I suppose."

"When is she due to be back?"

"I have no idea. It is a two-week journey to Culacia, and she has to be there at least for a while to cure everyone. Soon, I would wager. If anything untoward had happened, I am sure we would find out somehow."

Gwen sighed unhappily at this, dropping her fork on her plate. Lancelot reached forward to take his wife's hand.

"There is no use worrying when we have yet to know," He pointed out.

* * *

><p>Gwaine and Roskin arrived the next morning…without Merlin.<p>

"Mordred attacked," Said Roskin, "He took Merlin and fled. We have failed, Your Majesty."

Jealous Arthur might utter plenty of nonsensical things, but when jealousy did not factor in a situation, he was actually a King of few words.

"Is he keeping her alive?"

There was a pause. "Yes," Gwaine said.

No one asked how he knew for sure. Arthur himself wondered, but he could not bear to ask.

"Do we know where he is?"

"Not exactly, but I am told of the general area."

Arthur asked only a couple of questions after that. What of the Culacians? They were victims of the mess. Was Crestathion involved?

"Yes," Said Gwaine readily, "Queen Aldrea of Culacia informed us that he was the one who was responsible for the plague, and he intends to spread it to Camelot if we do not find Merlin for him."

"How fortunate that Healer Emrys can match Crestathion's magical strength," Arthur said coldly. He hardly needed a threat to his kingdom to be motivated to rescue her. "And, finding Emrys would be in Culacia's best interests as well. Would this Queen Aldrea be opposed to such an alliance?"

"She is the one who volunteered," Gwaine replied.

"Very good." Arthur stood, and the whole court watched warily as he declared, "Healer Emrys has done much for Camelot, and has the potential to do more. Mordred has always been an enemy of Camelot's. If we can secure the kingdom's prosperity by addressing them both, so much the better. Does the court object?"

A chorus of 'Nay's sounded.

"Sir Lancelot," Arthur ordered, "Ready the men. Sir Gwaine and Sir Roskin, you two have an opportunity to make up for this disappointment by leading us to wherever Mordred is hiding her. I want Emrys back in Camelot as soon as possible."

And really, there was not much more to be said on the matter.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Lady of Magic

Chapter Fifteen

_What kind of trick is this?_

The portraits did not move again, and once Merlin got over her initial fright, she boldly went up to touch them. Oil on canvas, dry under her fingertips. If Mordred had enchanted them, it seemed a rather random and useless spell.

There was no exit behind any of the portraits.

Frustrated, she threw her arm at one of them, slicing it with a bolt of magic. _Curse all of them, bloody druids, bloody imbeciles, all of them, sitting around waiting for _me_ when I _said _I did not want anything to do with—_

The frame glowed, stopping her thoughts short. She drew back, ready to bolt, but some compulsion kept her in place. The frame dimmed, but so did the canvas, dipping into pitch black. It had been the one showing her mounted on a horse. Merlin's own magic surged, ready for anything, but the canvas simply shimmered for one heartbeat before the shadows lifted, revealing the the same background as before, a terrain loosely populated with trees on a cloudy day…except the image of Merlin herself, and the horse, were both gone.

_What sort of wizardry is this?_ Merlin blinked again, trying to come to terms with what just happened. Then she heard a faint sound. _Clop-clop, clop-clop._ Hoofbeats. A wind blew in the canvas and the trees rustled, branches quivering. The draft blasted out, blowing across the bed in the chamber, through Merlin's hair.

_What is this?_ Astounded, Merlin could only stare for a moment, before she cautiously approached the portrait—or was it a window now? Forest air blew out, and she could smell the grass and leaves, the hum of other horses and men, murmuring.

_Is the canvas still there?_ She reached out to touch, and abruptly, she was no longer standing in the chamber. A horse was moving under her, and her elbows were stuck by the joints of her armor. The staff in her hand dropped as the shift in perspective caused her to become disoriented. She swooned to the side, and was caught just as she started to slip off her mount.

"Milady!"

_I have seen some strange things but this has to beat them all,_ Merlin thought as she was suddenly surrounded and lowered carefully off her horse. Men were whispering, and she heard some women too, words of confusion and concern.

"She needs rest."

"We should have stopped earlier…"

Stopping sounded like a _very _good idea, especially since Merlin was starting to feel distinctly sick. She looked up to see Paris move out of the way so Selene could take a look.

"Emrys," She knelt, "Can you tell me what happened?"

_What is going on?_ Merlin had to make a concerted effort not to give in to the urge to vomit. _I am in armor…the two Culacians are here…_for a moment she wondered if she was still on the journey _to _Culacia and the whole arrival and subsequent cure had been her imagination—but she was fairly certain she had been traveling with Gwaine and Roskin instead of Lancelot and Gwen. And Elyan. And…what looked like a whole group of druids.

"Emrys?"

"I have no idea what happened."

She had spoken without meaning to.

Selene was scanning her. Gwen, Merlin noted, was also in armor. It reminded Merlin suddenly of the time when they had gone to Ealdor, when Morgana had been sweet and compassionate and not the complete demon she was now.

"She seems alright, a little nauseated," Selene frowned. "I think she just needs to rest."

"We have been traveling fast," Gwen stated, "This delay cannot be avoided, I fear."

_Alright, where am I?_ Merlin was barely aware of Gwen helping her up. She got a closer look at Gwen and did a double-take. _Or…maybe a better question is _when _am I. _Perhaps the portrait opened to a world of its own. _Next time throw a rock at the canvas instead of touching it with your hand, you idiot._

"Break for an hour," Lancelot announced to the druids, "We move again afterwards. The King cannot afford too much of a delay, but rest is a necessary evil."

"No," Merlin called out, and once again, it was as if someone else had taken control of her lips. "Half that time. I just need something to eat, that is all."

_Not if. _Someone else _was _taking control. Distantly, Merlin could sense the presence of another conscience, one that was like her own, and yet different.

"Anyone have water and food?" Paris was asking, and someone called him over to fetch some rations. Selene went with her brother, leaving Merlin alone with Gwen and Elyan.

"I guess I pushed myself a little too much," Merlin said to them in a sheepish voice._  
><em>

_Alright what is going on?_ Merlin tried to assume _any _control at all over her body, but it seemed like she was just an observer. An older Merlin was operating the vessel, and she was still talking to the two siblings.

"That came out of nowhere," She was saying, "One moment I was fine, the next I was sliding off the horse."

"It happens to the best of us, and you have slept poorly the past few days," Sir Elyan inclined his head.

"Come, have a seat, perhaps in this half hour you can nod off for a few minutes. It would help," Gwen took Merlin by the arm.

Selene and Paris came back with food and water, which Merlin took without hesitation. Lancelot joined her a few minutes later.

_Where is Arthur?_ Merlin wanted to ask, but the self she was inhabiting seemed more inclined to eat than ask questions.

"It looks like it will rain soon," Paris noted.

Merlin glanced up at this. "Hm," She felt herself frowning. Sure enough, in the distance was a heavy patch of dark clouds, sweeping toward them at an alarming rate.

"It looks like it will rain hard," Selene looked at her. "Perhaps we really should just rest and wait it out. We cannot outrun it. At the pace it is going, the storm will be brief, and we can do what we can against the flash floods once we are not pelted by water."

"It certainly seems like our only option," Merlin agreed. "Very well. Fate will have its way, it seems. Let us hope the delay does not prove costly."

"It will be alright," Gwen touched her arm. "Wars are not won in a day. If you rush now only to give out before the end, it is not worth it."

_Wars?_

The other druids were tired, and all too eager to take advantage of the break the storm would allow. They set up spells to create a transparent shelter, while some spread out blankets to rest on the ground. Merlin herself curled up near Selene, shutting her eyes despite wishing dearly that she could ask someone what was going on. It was not quite _frightening_ to be out of control of her body—it did not feel like hers, for one, and it seemed like whoever _was _in control was still Merlin, just a different version…but it was not _pleasant_ to be forced to observe without having any control over what she could do.

Time seemed to speed up, for when she opened her eyes the storm was in full swing, and thunder shook the air as lightning splattered against the magical barriers.

"You alright?"

It was Paris. He was awake and was taking a seat next to her. A hand reached out and brushed her hair back from her temple.

_Wait._

"I'm fine." Merlin felt herself smile. "You should get some sleep too. I have been driving you insane the past few days."

"Nay," Paris grinned, "You were fine. If you really want crazy, turn around and look over there. You think she is a sweetheart now, but my sister has yet to show her true colors in front of you."

"Oh? Hm, but Arthur did tell me she was quite the hard-tongued visitor when the two of you came to Camelot for the first time."

"Ugh," Paris sighed, "Sooner or later that temper of hers would bring about misfortune, I know it."

"Only with bad people," Merlin told him, "And Selene chooses her company wisely. I doubt things will go as poorly as you fear."

He was _still _stroking her hair. _I am not fine with this._ What, did this mean that she and Paris…? _I am _not _fine with this._

"Company is not always ours to choose," Paris sighed again, and he finally scooted down to lie next to Merlin.

"You and I will take care of her," Merlin promised, and then tucked herself into Paris's waiting arms.

_Alright, no. Just…no. How do I get out of this portrait?_

"Renel would be in her sixth month," Merlin murmured. "That clotpole. He keeps exclaiming he wants to feel the baby kick, and now that it's old enough he goes and heads out to war."

"He is a young man. The call of battle will draw him more than domesticity."

"He is not just a warrior. He is King, of Camelot, no less, and Renel is carrying his firstborn. You'd think he'd play the game so that he could wait a little bit longer. That imbecile."

"Not all things are within our control, and Arthur is use to putting kingdom before family."

_Who is Renel?_ Merlin felt a flare of some emotion she could not quite identify. Certainly not jealousy. Why would she be jealous? Besides, even if she did think she could ever be with Arthur—well she did, once, when Arthur fell in love with Gwen and she realized that he was capable of seeing beyond class boundaries, but even then she knew he would never fall for her. She was not like Gwen, graceful, soft-spoken, feminine and warm. She was Merlin, sharp-tongued, clumsy, odd-looking even for a man, let alone a woman, and—

"I am glad I have you," Merlin told Paris. "You are such a sensible man."

Several thoughts flew through her head in quick succession: Arthur was married to someone named Renel, he left her pregnant and alone in Camelot while traveling out to fight a war—Merlin _was _glad she would not marry Arthur since it just figured he would dump her aside the way he dumped Renel when war loomed, though she was not quite sure she wanted to be with Paris, and—_wait, I was kidnapped by Mordred and these are _his _paintings. Wasn't the whole point t__o separate me and Arthur?_

In a rush, Merlin found herself back in the chamber, sprawled on her side. The portrait in front of her had reverted back to how it was when she first saw it, a woman in armor on horseback.

_Arthur's not really the type to abandon his loved ones for war if he can help it,_ Merlin reminded herself. If Mordred intended to use the portraits to drive Merlin away from Arthur, it was not going to work that easily. _Besides, I am not exactly _with _Arthur._

Still, she felt shaken, and she was not sure it was just the experience of being in a portrait trapped in the body of another self, with no ability to control what she did or said. Certainly, that had been unnerving, but there was an undercurrent of dismay at the idea of Queen Renel, whoever this lady was. Maybe she was a princess. Or will be a princess.

_You do not even know she is real, you imbecile._ Merlin shook her head, grimacing with self-scorn. This was unbecoming, and really, her priority should be getting out of here, before she got stuck in a portrait for good this time, not some fictional wife of Arthur—really, it was not like she expected Arthur to be a bachelor all his life. He had been about to marry Gwen when she first left Camelot, and it was a wonder he took no bride in the intervening years.

_Just focus on getting out of here and you can worry about Queens and Arthur later._

Having control of her body again was a bit disorienting in its own way. She kept over-reaching, and it took a moment before she had her coordination back. She kept away from the portraits this time, searching for some other means of getting out. There had to be a way. She had somehow been brought _in_, after all.

She threw some magic at the walls again, even though it did not work before. Once again, the magic was simply absorbed. Frustrated, she cast several more times just to vent, straining her muscles to throw out with her arm at full force—

The last spell bounced off the corner where the floor met the wall, ricocheting to the ceiling, and smacked into one of the picture frames with such violence that the thing swayed and nearly fell off. Merlin managed to catch sight of herself clad in leather armor, fire in the background as human figures ran with hands covering their heads, before the canvas darkened.

Wasting no time, Merlin whirled around and ran, but a resounding _boom _knocked her forward, and then air started sucking into the canvas with an audible hum.

She was standing in a village, but then she was falling, and an arm quickly grabbed hers to steady her.

"Emrys?"

It was a man she did not recognize, but Merlin replied, "I am fine, Jomain."

She did not give him time to respond before sweeping forward with a purposeful stride. There were other druids here, many casting spells to put out the fire.

"We have to find Arthur." She said this with vehemence. "This has gone too far. Jomain, come with me."

She transformed into a bird, a merlin by the feel of it, and heard Jomain change into a similar raptor. The two ascended above the smoke as more houses fell.

They flew at full speed, so that Merlin's wings were burning by the time they saw the fortress. It was nowhere near Camelot; this was a temporary fort, built as a station for soldiers to launch from. Arthur was on a tall wall, crown glimmering, arms folded and cloak sweeping behind him, staring ahead. He was not looking in the direction of the burning village, however; it was too far away for him to see, and he did not seem interested in it anyway.

Merlin and Jomain transformed after they both landed. Arthur did not turn to look at them, but a smirk did twitch at his lips, an expression that looked very unfamiliar to her, but did not seem to surprise the individual she was inhabiting.

"Merlin," The King exclaimed, "About time you showed up. You were always especially tardy."

"Arthur," Merlin stepped forward, and she never heard her voice sound quite like that, even when she had been mad at Arthur, even before she returned to Camelot after he asked her to. "What have you done?"

He snapped his head around. "I do not answer to _you_, _Mer_lin."

The condescension in his voice was alarming.

_This is not right._

"On the contrary," Merlin said coolly, but her tones became progressively more heated as she went on, "We are two sides of the same coin. You answer to me, whether you will it or not, for while your blood carries the royalty of the Pendragon line, through _my _veins runs the will of Destiny, and I demand to know, _what have you done?_"

He glared. Merlin glared back. Jomain lingered behind her, hesitant to intrude.

"You were always defiant," Arthur said thoughtfully, his gaze never softening. His eyes were so hard, they burned to look at, but somehow Merlin met them without flinching. "From the moment we met, you had no respect for authority. I suppose that is not to be helped. Perhaps it is even to be expected."

Merlin's leather armor glowed, and she was suddenly wearing robes, dressed in the white of the healer she was.

"Arthur Pendragon," She warned, "Do not think that because I once made a vow to serve you to the end, that I will not find ways to end your mad carnage."

"You were always the self-sacrificial sort," Arthur continued with a sneer. "Mad carnage, is it? And how is it mad, exactly? Any other king would do the same. I expected you to at least be able to learn, _Mer_lin. The game of thrones has no room for mercy. Carnage _is _mercy. It is you or them."

_This is wrong this is wrong, how do I get out of here?_ Merlin tried to will herself away, but she remained solidly stuck, the vision of Arthur, coldblooded and unrecognizable, remained unwavering in front of her eyes.

"I chose the course of destiny," Merlin hissed, "To see this land rise above the level it had been. I elected to serve a wise king, a king who would bring about change for the better, who would introduce an era of enlightenment and prosperity. I volunteered my gifts to a man who promised to change the rules of the game. You have failed me."

In a flash, Arthur had a sword at her throat. Merlin was shaken, though her vessel remained unmoved.

"You have grown more saucy over the years, witch," The king sneered, "Careful, or your arrogance may cost you your head."

"My head has never been worth much," Merlin replied, "Once upon a time it might have mattered a little, but we both know that now you see value only in my gifts. These gifts, which you take for granted." She spread her hands out. "Go ahead. You know we are two sides of the same coin. Cut me down if you believe you can bring glory to Camelot on your own."

"Insolent wench! You abandoned Camelot for years, and during that time _I _brought prosperity to Camelot—"

"Through peaceful means, Arthur Pendragon."

"All of Albion was at peace then," Arthur sneered, "And would have been, were it not for _you_—you failed to kill Morgana, Mordred, Crestathion, Lywir, all the sorcerers who sought to bring Camelot to ruin. Perhaps it was not mercy that stayed your hand?" He stepped close, and the blade's sharp edge sliced slightly into her neck. "You spoke of destiny, of duty. Tell me, Emrys, just how were you thinking to help me bring magic back to Albion?"

_Lywir? There's another?_

Jomain was tense, and Merlin wondered why he was not stepping in somehow, until she realized she was holding her hand out in a refraining gesture. She was looking into Arthur's eyes, the muscles of her own straining, as if looking for something she just could not find. Then her heart sank, a physical feeling borne of an emotion Merlin did not actually feel. Her vessel had realized something.

She had felt this before. Heart stabbed, shattered, that fateful night when Arthur had found out her two closest secrets. This time there was no fear, however. She reached out and grabbed the naked blade with one hand, ignoring how it cut into her fingers and palm.

"It does not matter now," She said softly. "Magic is a dream. Perhaps it always was."

With an input of magic to help, she pulled the sword through her neck.

* * *

><p><em>"You can't keep her here forever."<em>

_"I'll keep her for however long it takes."_

_"She is stronger than you. She will find her way out, and there are those who would seek to find her as well."_

Merlin opened her eyes. She was on the bed again, with the canopy overhead. The blankets shifted, and she turned her head to see Mordred looking impassively at her. Next to him was an older druid with hair that curled like Gwen's.

She jerked her body up. Black spots blinked in her vision, but she ignored the dizziness and the wave of nausea, remaining upright with sheer force of will. Two druids—she reached for her magic, but…_What?_ It was not there!

"I see she has woken," Said the older druid. "Healer Emrys. A pleasure to meet your acquaintance."

"I have no mutual feelings," She hissed, trying to get her bearings. "What did you do to me?"

"We did nothing," Mordred replied. "You exhausted yourself."

Merlin stared. "_I _exhausted _myself?_ Do you think I am an idiot? What trick did you use with the portraits?"

There was a brief pause.

"What portraits?" Mordred asked, looking perplexed.

Merlin snapped her head to the wall. Sure enough, it was bare; not a single portrait was to be seen.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Lady of Magic

Chapter Sixteen

Queen Aldrea was a bizarre golden-skinned, with the bone structure of a middle-aged woman, but the wrinkles of a twenty-year-old. For all that she looked nothing like Merlin, Arthur's heart kept stopping at the sight of her. It was like seeing a glimpse of the future, somehow. Someone wearing a crown, floating in white silk, long silky black hair rolled into shining coils and studded with jewels. Holding a scepter of magic.

"Well met, Arthur-King," Aldrea greeted, and Arthur did likewise.

The Culacians were actually a disheartening lot. Many of them had just been ill, and even with their armor, they looked thin and ragged. Camelot's knights, in contrast, were proud and tall, with broad shoulders and gleaming metal plates. It was clear who would be taking the front lines in this particular alliance.

"My regrets for the circumstances," said the queen.

It was all redundant. Time to show her mettle. "We have the power to change the situation, oh Queen. I know of this Mordred. He is a sorcerer of great potential. We must be on our guard."

She followed his lead, at least. "Let us not dally, then."

The knights were unimpressed, and somewhat discouraged. This gave Arthur an idea of just how powerful Crestathion was, and how ruthless. He turned to Gwaine and Roskin.

"Sir Gwaine and Sir Roskin, you two will forge ahead to scout the exact whereabouts and what we will be facing."

The two men instantly saluted. "Yes, sire."

"I will send Mage Paris and Selene to assist," Aldrea said, and then reverted to her own language to give the order. The language sounded completely unfamiliar to Arthur.

The two siblings saluted Arthur. "We are in your service, Your Majesty."

The party of four were given a running start. Arthur quickly considered the problems that might arise once Merlin was rescued. Getting Merlin from Mordred was one issue; keeping her from Crestathion was yet another, and that was assuming they manage to kill Mordred, which was unlikely, given the prophecy. The Culacians were very ill, and doubtless their numbers had suffered under Crestathion. Aldrea would not choose to extend the fighting any longer than necessary, in order to preserve her people. However, if Crestathion continued to target the Culacians to manipulate Merlin, she might try to hand Merlin to him herself in order to save her kingdom. Unethical, but given the choice between a foreign sorceress and her subjects, it was not a choice Arthur would disagree with under any other circumstances. Doubtless, Crestathion would even play on this desperation, encouraging hostilities between Camelot and Culacians after their temporary alliance, which would weaken both sides and place Merlin in jeopardy. Arthur would have to decide how to combat this by the time Merlin was safe from Mordred.

There was also the possibility that Crestathion might be stronger, at this time, than Merlin. Merlin was a healer at heart, and though she could be ruthless, her primary instinct was to protect and nurture. That was clearly not Crestathion's temperament, and this could be detrimental, even if Merlin had more raw power. It would be foolish of Arthur to plan for Merlin to counter any of Crestathion's moves on her own, or even assume that having her on his side would skew the odds in their favor. For all that Merlin was Emrys, she was still a single woman, with her vulnerabilities. She was not just a mindless weapon to be used. Arthur needed to plan for alternatives.

The most obvious solution was not stellar. Arthur could plan a continued alliance with Aldrea, for Culacia's continued support as they attack Crestathion. This could work, provided that the queen could see that eliminating Crestathion altogether was better than catering to his whims and hoping he would leave them alone, even if this required an investment of faith and blood at the start. However, Culacia was so battered already that even if Aldrea were sensible enough, she might find it too risky to incur Crestathion's wrath at this time, and decide it would be better to wait and let Camelot take the brunt for a while. If she were clever enough, she might even pretend to ally with Camelot with the intention of betraying them later. Arthur would be compelled to look over his shoulder all throughout. Not preferable.

Another option was to seek help from other kingdoms, but Arthur was an unmarried king of a kingdom with wealth and prestige that many others envied. Had he been married, he might have requested help from his in-laws, but he was not.

Merlin might have a better idea, but knowing her, she might just offer to sacrifice herself to save them all the trouble. Even as a manservant, Merlin was an idiot. She might have grown wiser over the years, but considering she had waltzed off to the deathtrap of Culacia in the first place, Arthur did not harbor strong hopes for that.

He really missed Gaius.

Without alliances, and without the idiot's input, Arthur was left with no ideas. Was it really a matter of selecting the best out of bad options?

He needed more information.

"Tell me about Crestathion," he said to Aldrea. "My sources tell me that he is a sorcerer of great power, which he obviously does, to be able to face a kingdom of druids for this long." He did not say 'level a kingdom' or 'bring a kingdom to its knees', because that would be completely undiplomatic. "Yet I know little about him, despite this."

Aldrea's eyes were sharp and vivid when she looked at him. "To put it simply, he is a mortal incarnate of an old god."

Arthur's mind blanked.

"…What?"

"Long ago, before the kingdoms of today, the map of the world was very different, and the ancient gods reigned over mortals, bestowing their blessings and curses. One of them is Crom-Cruaich, the Lord of the Mound. In the olden days, he required yearly sacrifices of young children to promise fertile harvests. As the magic faded from the world, so did gods like him, but in the Time of Emrys, magic was to return to Albion, and some of these old gods are reestablishing ties. Crestathion is the human form of Crom-Cruaich."

Arthur frowned, feeling his stomach drop. He had never heard of this business. Old gods, that various tribes had worshipped—that he knew of, like any other sovereign, but he had heard nothing connecting them with Merlin. _A god that demands child sacrifice? Obviously an evil deity. And one who wants Merlin. Whatever his reason, it will be nefarious. _But if he was a god, how was Arthur supposed to protect her?

"So you're saying his real name is Crom-Cruaich and that he might be invincible."

"Not exactly." Aldrea's countenance was still troubled. "He is more like a piece of Crom-Cruaich. The old gods had great influence in their day, but as magic receded from the mortal realm, so did their ties. Once, they could mingle among men in their true forms. Now, there is a barrier. It is…difficult to explain, but perhaps the best way to say this is Crom-Cruaich is Crestathion, but Crestathion is not Crom-Cruaich. Crestathion is mortal, with a mortal mother and a mortal fate, but his soul is that of a god's, and despite the filter of his flesh, he is more powerful than your normal druid."

Arthur had a feeling Merlin would understand this better than he did. "What are his strengths and weaknesses, then?"

"Great magic, obviously. He does not have the vast wisdom or memories of his immortal self, but he does share his intuition. As for weaknesses, that is harder to say. He can be killed, but outside his own terms…I do not know."

The most important question was, "Can Emrys defeat him?"

"He cannot kill her," Aldrea replied, "Her destiny is greater than his power to change it, even if he were in his godly form. Can she subdue him—that, I do not know. Emrys is the most powerful sorceress of all time, but Crestathion is not just a sorcerer. Further, her destiny is lined with confrontations with the mortal forms of the other gods. Even assuming she is strong enough to defeat them all, she would not be able to do so without aid, or without great cost to herself and those around her."

Collateral damage, and Merlin might be permanently harmed in the process. As soon as Arthur had reuinted Merlin, everything had started going wrong. Perhaps they were less two sides of the same coin and more lock and key to the box of Disasters.

"If Crestathion is this Crom-Cruaich, or at least came from him," he amended quickly, "What about the others? You mentioned that 'some' are reestablishing ties."

"They say that there are three half-sisters who are forms of the goddess Matronae," said Aldrea. "She has three forms as a goddess: the first form, also Matronae, is the Benevolent Mother, or the Protector. The second form is Modron, the Neutral Mother, or the Passivist. The third form is Morrígan, the Malevolent Mother, or the Punisher."

_Morgana? _Arthur wondered, and prayed that she was not. For all that he was angry with the girl he had grown up with, had teased and allowed teasing by, it was something else to think of her as something like Morrígan. Arthur had heard about Morrígan—he had to have _some _knowledge of the Celts. To think that the crow goddess had played with him as a child, had once been a sweet child herself, with a thirst for adventure and a sweetness that once promised great compassion in adulthood, gave him shivers.

Yet, given everything that had happened, Arthur was not sure if anything was too outrageous to be believed. Once upon a time, Merlin was a non-magical boy, Uther was always right, and Morgana would always be by his side, in spirit if not in body. What a chaotic path all their lives took.

"There are rumors that Mars took the form of a druid," Aldrea inclined her head, "perhaps the one we confront now."

_Well Mordred certainly isn't the peaceful type._

"What about Emrys?" he asked. "Is she also a goddess?" The most powerful sorceress ought to have something backing that up.

"No," said Aldrea. "She did not come from one, no. It would contradict the prophecy." She went on as Arthur tried to mentally recall the prophecy in order to make sense of her remark. "Crom-Cruaich, Matronae, and Mars are the only ones we're aware of. If there are more, they are smaller deities, subordinate to the main gods we worship, and whose names have been lost to time."

_So the news could possibly be even worse._ Arthur wanted to hit something. "Why is this the first time I'm hearing this?" he wondered out loud, too frustrated to keep silent.

"Perhaps it is because Albion's ties to magic had been weak for many decades," Aldrea replied. "Even the coming of Emrys was softly foretold, and the gods would hardly wish to announce their arrival in more vulnerable transports."

Arthur looked at her. "Why are they even here? Are they all here for Merlin? Is there something they want from her, or is it just a coincidence?"

"I wish I knew," said Aldrea, but this time Arthur had a feeling she was lying.

One of the knights gestured to the king before he could confront her about it.

"Your Majesty," he reminded Arthur.

Arthur nodded. "Let's go." He kicked at his steed, and saw Aldrea do the same.

* * *

><p><em>Mordred might be<em> _Mars_. God of War. The more Arthur thought about it, the more it made sense. Merlin was nothing if not a maiden of peace and harmony. If Mordred was her opposite, would he not be war and disunity?

But something was not right, despite it all. With a worry that seemed outside himself rather than squirming in his gut, Arthur considered the very real possibility that there were four people running around _besides _Morgana and Mordred. Morgana and Morgause were half-sisters, but there was no third that Arthur knew of.

_As if Camelot needs even more enemies._

As they progressed, a faint tingle started at the base of his skull. Aldrea seemed more sensitive, and her scepter seemed to vibrate in response to the increased magical energies in the air. The tingle gradually increased, spreading down his spin and upper limbs. His own druids muttered oaths, and some whispered, with increasing worry, that the magic was strong indeed, and victory was not assured.

Gwaine and Paris met them before they could trespass through enemy boundaries.

"Sire. There's a lake ahead, and some kind of isle in the middle. We saw men on the isle. It is surrounded by some kind of magical ward. We cannot infiltrate without being detected."

_Isle. _Arthur was reminded of the Isle of the Blessed. He resisted the urge to rub his face. No wonder Uther hated magic.

The two armies had gone side by side throughout the journey, but Aldrea waved at her people—some women among them, who were clearly sorceresses, and they shifted to mingle with Camelot's ranks.

"Where is my other mage?" she asked Gwaine.

"She is with Sir Roskin, Your Majesty," Gwaine replied. "They are circling the perimeter to determine the details."

"How many?" Arthur asked.

"We counted at least two dozen druids on the shore," said Paris, "and wearing armor, Your Majesty. There are more within the construction."

"Construction?" Arthur frowned at the strange term. "Not a castle?"

"It's a shelter, certainly," Gwaine and Paris exchanged a look, "but not a castle made of stone. More of a…modified hill."

Arthur's frown deepened. This was Mordred, not Crestathion. What were they doing with a mound?

"Mordred is a powerful warlock, and if he could keep Emrys from Crestathion, approaching the isle will be difficult," Aldrea warned. "There is more than just two dozen druids if Crestathion could not retrieve her himself."

"We will have to divide our forces," said Paris, "and distract the druids while a smaller group rescues Emrys. We would never be able to defeat Mordred outright, so we will have to make do with keeping him occupied until the task is done, and we can all escape."

Arthur was left with an uncomfortable decision. He could lead the Calucians and his own knights to battle and trust someone else to sneak into the mound. The idea left him feeling uneasy, however; he trusted his own knights, but even as Crown Prince, Arthur had been the best fighter of them all. What if they encounter a challenge they could not handle? But if he allowed someone else, namely Aldrea, to lead the main attack, he would be putting his own life in her hands, relying entirely on her ability to distract, not to mention placing the lives of his men in her hands. Neither option was palatable.

"Do we know for certain that she is even there?" He asked.

"Uh…no, sire."

_Great._

"We may need to await the other two before planning further," Aldrea suggested.

Arthur agreed. "Go back," he told Gwaine and Paris, "and see if you can't find out if Merlin is there. How many people are we actually dealing with, whether Mordred is also there. Be careful not to be seen."

The two men saluted.

* * *

><p>Aldrea and Arthur waited in the same spot while others settled around them. They spoke little, both absorbed in their own thoughts. Arthur wished he could convene with his druids alone, but that seemed inappropriate, and a gesture of poor faith.<p>

It was a good hour before Gwaine and Paris returned, this time with Roskin and Selene.

"Your Majesties," Selene knelt in the front and reported, "We have reason to believe both Emrys and Mordred are on the isle. The isle is protected by a diamond gossamer ward. Sir Roskin and I counted sixty druids who are proficient with the sword. More are within the construct—we were unable to determine the number. The isle itself appears to have a magical signature as well. We believe the presence of Emrys might have enhanced it. While it is very active, the direction seems specifically inward. Something is happening on the isle itself, and within the construct."

"What do you mean, 'something is happening on the isle itself'?" Arthur demanded.

"The isle is active," said Gwaine, "and there are magical spells apparently being tossed around."

"What on earth does that mean?"

"The isle is apparently semi-sentient," Aldrea frowned, "and is stirring, independent of Mordred and his druids. Likely, Mordred picked this isle for its properties."

_…The isle is a **thinking **isle? _"What about Merlin? Does this mean she's in danger?"

"We don't know," Roskin said regretfully. "We couldn't tell exactly _what _was going on."

"But the isle is getting increasingly active," said Paris, "the longer we wait, the stronger it's going to get."

"So we don't have much time," Aldrea concluded.

Arthur thought.

"If the isle is working independently of Mordred, then it's doing something he's not expecting, correct?"

"It does not bear his signature, but we can't know for sure."

"Can we make it stronger?" Arthur asked.

"The isle?" Gwaine blinked.

"Feed the isle, make it more active, and perhaps distract Mordred."

They all looked at each other.

"We'd have to go on the isle," Selene said.

Arthur turned to Aldrea. "We'll have the majority of the forces attack from the banks of the lake, grab Mordred's attention. A small party can go from one side, and a party of druids can go on the other. The druids can provoke the isle. The other party can rescue Emrys."

"Very well," Aldrea inclined her head. "You can lead the main force. Mordred would want a leading figure to target, and you have an interest in facing Merlin. If he does not see you, he would be suspicious."

"We should both lead, in that case," said Arthur, "as he would note the Culacians and wonder where their queen is."

"Someone has to lead the druids and the rescue party."

"You can have Paris or Selene lead the druids. They've investigated the isle."

They were thus divided; Gwaine and Roskin led the rescue party, and Paris and Selene led the druids. With a few words confirming the plan, they quickly parted ways. Arthur rode alongside Aldrea as the main forces headed directly toward the lake.

* * *

><p>The isle was very like the description of the Isle of the Blessed. Same stupid lake, foggy mist, and shadowy silhouette. It was a wonder that the scouts could make out anything at all; everything was so murky from the banks. Maybe the mist was the so-called diamond gossamer ward. <em>What a mess.<em>

"The magic is strong here," Aldrea murmured.

Arthur had gotten so desensitized by the buzz that he hardly felt it now.

"Archers?" he asked the captain.

"Ready, sire," said the man, as the druids stepped back from spelling the arrows.

"The ward might still block them," said one druid apologetically.

"We can't worry about that now," said Arthur. "Sound the horns. Let's get this bastard to show his face."

The horns blew, echoing over the lake.

"Archers, ready at my command," Arthur ordered, but though he had them all notch their arrows, he needed to get his message across first.

"Mordred!" He hollered. "'Tis I, King Arthur of Camelot! You have what is mine, and I want her back!"

Through the mist, he could see shadows of people scuttling around. Then, an eerie echo wafted across the water.

_"Arthur Pendragon, the Once and Future King. So many threads woven to ensure your destiny. You are bold, King of Camelot."_

"I don't care what you think, Mordred!" Arthur called back, "You have Emrys prisoner. Free her, and I will leave you to your isle. Defy me, and I will sink you and your brethren in flame!"

The mist _glimmered _then, like silk. Arthur clenched his jaw. He was not expecting words to work, but he was hoping for Mordred to show more of his hand before the soldiers engaged.

_"Free Emrys to your fate?" _Mordred's voice deepened until it vibrated along the ground, inhuman and deadly. _"The Treasure of Old Magic, chained to your doom?"_

A dim glow appeared through the mist, at first like a large candle, but then growing and growing and growing, until there was definition, and Arthur realized it was a spell. Heading straight towards them.

Aldrea shouted something, her own scepter flashing. Her mages summoned a barrier, but the spell made the ground rock under their feet. Arthur's horse whinnied and nearly reared.

"Archers, draw!" He yelled. "Fire!"

A rain of arrows split through to the skin, arcing over to sail onto the isle, but there was another glow, this time bright blue and violet. The gossamer ward glimmered. The blue and violet aura swelled to meet the arrows, and they disintegrated without hitting any of their targets.

Arthur patted his horse and swallowed a curse. Aldrea called out in her own language, and the Culacian mages fired a series of spells at the water. Mordred caused another aura to spell, and the lakewater suddenly swung up from the isle, arcing over and threatening to crash into the troops. Aldrea called out once again, and this time Arthur reacted too, summoning his own druids. "Shields!"

The water was blocked, but the ground rocked once more, and this time Arthur's horse did rear in panic.

"Sire!" one of his knights called.

Arthur fought to get the stallion under control. He glared over at the isle, where the mist hung thicker than ever. "Get a path to land!" he yelled at his druids. "We need a platform for melee!"

The druids swarmed to the front, directing spells at the water, but he could not see their results. Arthur's mount was still panicking, and in a fit of frustration, Arthur dismounted. It was too much work calming the animal down. He pulled out his sword, but there was nothing to attack yet. The isle was still blocked by a few miles of water, and though the druids were freezing the waves into a path of ice, it was slow going, and the road would be slippery to cross.

He swallowed another curse. There was a real possibility that they would have to retreat and abandon Merlin to her fate. He could not consider that—would never have, back when he was a prince, but as king he had to think of his own people, and the costs versus benefit, and if Mordred were strong enough that even spelled arrows could be extinguished with just his will, or the will of the druids following him…

_Gwaine, Roskin, hurry up._

He did not want to consider how he would deal with leaving without Merlin.


End file.
